


Changing the Rules

by stratumgermanitivum



Series: The Rules [1]
Category: Adam (2009), Charlie Countryman (2013), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom
Genre: Ableist Language, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Canon-Typical Violence, Did I say undertones?, Don't Try This At Home, Drugs, Explicit Language, Hair Pulling, I lied, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Nigel has a super shady job, No seriously this is not a healthy relationship, Non-Sexual Submission, Punishment, References to Drugs, Spanking, Specific kinks in chapter warnings., Unhealthy Relationships, and now it's just the text, eventual D/s undertones, he likes it that way, i accidentally broke the subtext, so much hair pulling goddamn, some self harm in the context of overstimulated meltdowns, super iffy consent issues, surprise spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2019-06-28 12:27:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 69,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15707229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stratumgermanitivum/pseuds/stratumgermanitivum
Summary: After his breakup with Beth, Adam finally found a new job. That it was in Bucharest, across the world from everyone he knows, was both a blessing and a curse. Everything familiar was gone, he would need to rewrite his entire existence, but at least he would no longer have to deal with his awkward friendship with Beth, or the way everyone always stared at him. He had no idea he would be moving in just down the street from the headquarters of a gang that ran most of Bucharest's seedy underbelly. Nigel didn't question any of Adam's quirks, and the rules he lived his life by might be just what Adam needed to balance his life back out.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic goes AU partway through Adam; Everything happened as it did in the film, but Adam never got a job in California and Beth eventually broke up with Adam due to incompatibility (And a little bit of anxiety about his meltdowns). They remained good friends, and Adam considers her to be his best friend. As for Nigel, the events of Charlie Countryman have not yet happened, and Nigel has never met Gabi (But trust me, she'll still be around...).

“Adam,” Beth says, her face all scrunched up in a way Adam doesn’t understand, “What’s in Bucharest?”

They’re eating dinner in Central Park, waiting for the raccoons. It was Beth’s idea. She’d packed them both mac and cheese in Tupperware containers and pulled Adam out of his apartment, even though Adam had been reading a brand new book about black holes. Adam thinks he likes her more now that they aren’t dating anymore. He still loves her, and he misses the sex, but it is a lot easier to spend time with Beth when there’s no pressure to talk to her parents or understand all her friends’ little jokes. For her part, Beth seems much more relaxed around him now that she isn’t always trying to figure him out. Adam doesn’t like when people try to ‘figure him out,’ he doesn’t think he’s very complicated.

“My new job,” He tells her again, “Weren’t you listening?”

Beth sighs and gets that look she always gets when she’s about to tell him something she thinks he won’t like. Something like ‘ _you can’t always eat mac and cheese for dinner’_ or _‘let’s go to the_ _theater_ _’_ or _‘I’m sorry, Adam, I just don’t think I can do this anymore.’_

“No, Adam, I understand that. You’re right, it’s a really good job,” It is. He’ll be engineering parts for rockets and satellites, parts that will actually end up _in_ space, and he won’t have to talk to anyone if he doesn’t want to, “But what _else_ is in Bucharest?”

Adam is prepared for this. He’s bought books, and spent hours pouring over Google search results. “There are many things in Bucharest. Bucharest is the capital city of Romania, and the largest. It is considered a cultural center for Romania, and there are many monuments, theaters, night clubs-”

“Adam. Adam!” Beth reaches out and squeezes her hand around his arm, like she always did when out with her friends or her parents. Adam trails to a stop and stares at her, waiting.

“For _you_ , Adam,” She says, “What else is in Bucharest for _you_? Because I know you’re not harboring a secret desire to go clubbing.”

“I could do that here,” He points out, which only seems to make her more frustrated with him.

“Your friends are here,” She reminds him, “Me and Harlan, we’re both here. Your home.”

“I can’t afford the mortgage without a job,” He reminds her, but she pushes forward like he hasn’t even spoken.

“What about your routines, Adam? It’s _Romania_. It’s Eastern Europe. They’re not gonna have your favorite brand of macaroni, or your favorite rocks to set your telescope on.”

Adam frowns, staring at her. “Of course they won’t,” He says, confused. Why would she think he didn’t know that? He knows that Central Park is only in New York City, he knows that he will have to try and find new food. He is autistic. He is not _stupid_.

Beth sighs, and her shoulders sink down until she looks like she is going to start crying or hugging him again. He’s not sure which would be more alarming right now. “Then why are you going?” She says, looking at him with big wet eyes. Oh no. It’s the crying.

“Because they are going to pay me lots of money,” Adam explains patiently. Maybe if he rearranges the words, says them a little differently, she will understand him better.

Beth groans and hides her face in her hands.

\-----  
“The hell is in _Bucharest_ , Adam?”

Adam sighs and zips his suitcase closed with more force than is probably necessary. “Have you been talking to Beth?”

Harlan frowns at him over a box marked for storage. “Why, did Beth try to talk some sense into you, too?”

Adam tucks the suitcase under the bed and reaches for a box. He isn’t bringing much. A suitcase of clothes and toiletries, a carry-on with his laptop, fidget cube, book, and gum for the plane. This box will be shipped over to his new apartment, filled with anything that he can’t cheaply replace, like his weighted blanket and the flag from Dad’s funeral. Everything else, Harlan is going to put into storage for him, so it will be ready when Adam one day moves back to New York. Because Harlan is very insistent that Adam will one day move back.

“You said I needed a job,” Adam says, tucking his photographs of Beth and Harlan and his parents into the box. “I got a job.”

“I meant a job _here,_ Adam. Where you won’t be alone.”

“I already live alone.”

“But you have Beth upstairs and me within driving distance. Someone can come get you in an emergency. If you have an emergency in Romania, it’s at least 12 hours on a plane before we can get to you, and that’s not counting hours of airport nonsense.”

This is a much more valid argument than Romania’s lack of Amy’s Mac & Cheese, but it is also another thing Adam has already thought about.

“Beth said she would teach you to Skype,” He tells Harlan, sealing the box up with packing tape, “And I had to promise to locate the nearest ER and police station to my apartment as soon as I move in, although I told Beth I will probably be jet lagged and need to sleep first.” Beth had not been amused. Adam was going to be very tired his first few days in Romania.

Harlan places a hand on Adam’s shoulder. Adam tries not to flinch, even though Harlan _knows_ Adam hates it when he can’t see people coming first. Adam looks up, staring at the bridge of Harlan’s nose like he and Beth have practiced.

“I just don’t think you’ve thought this through, Adam,” Harlan says in the gentle voice he uses for Adam’s meltdowns. Adam fidgets, hands twisting at his side.

“I’m going, Harlan.”

Harlan sighs. “Yeah, I know you are. You’re gonna be a stubborn old fool, just like me and your Dad.”

“I’m not even 30 yet.”

\-----

Adam didn’t like planes, to begin with.

He hadn’t had much opportunity to fly before, but he remembered them being cramped and crowded, not enough room to stretch out his legs, nowhere to go when he got tense. And they smelled wrong, flat and artificial.

That was a regular flight, a few hours to visit family out of state. This was trans-continental, and between arriving early to get checked in, going through security, the flight itself, and going through customs, fifteen hours had passed before Adam could finally walk out of the airport. It’s 6PM, which means it’s 11AM in New York. Adam hadn’t slept well on the plane, cramped and missing his bed, but he still feels over-excited as he navigates the streets of Bucharest, jittery even. He drapes the strap of his carry-on over his shoulder, one hand pulling the wheeled suitcase behind him, while the other flaps against his thigh, rhythmic and soothing. He feels dirty and sweaty. He needs a shower. He needs dinner, which he would not be able to get in his apartment. He’s going to have to drop his things off and then eat out at a _restaurant,_ and the thought makes him more anxious.

Adam knows, from studying maps with Beth, that the lab he’ll be working in is in a good part of the city, busy and bright, easily accessible by public transport, if he’s feeling brave, or by a good half hour walk, if he isn’t.

His apartment, on the other hand, is off a side street, in an area of the city Beth did not seem entirely pleased with. She’d bought him pepper spray, which he had not been able to carry on to the plane. It’s somewhere in his suitcase, tucked between pairs of socks, and therefor of no use to him right now.

The apartment is too far from the airport. Technically, Adam should take a cab. He doesn’t want to. It will mean digging out the Romanian phrasebook Beth bought him, fumbling through words where all the letters have little dots and slashes all over them and he can’t figure out what sounds he’s supposed to make. He has Google maps, and there are wheels on his suit case. He would rather walk.

His walk takes him far, past the street that will take him to the lab, past shops and a museum. A few blocks away from his apartment, people are spilling into a strip club, laughing and hollering, most of them already drunk even though it’s barely 6:30. Adam is, admittedly, curious about the concept of strippers. He likes sex, and he likes pretty women. But he doesn’t like either of those things enough to brave the lights and sounds, the constant press of bodies, or the fact that someone will undoubtedly attempt to talk to him and he will have to respond appropriately. Strippers will continue to be a foreign concept to Adam.

He can still hear the noise of the club several blocks later, although it might be the sound of people hollering in hostels and bars between there and his apartment. Adam’s block is covered in graffiti. One of the neighboring buildings looks like it was boarded up years ago, and a drunk man on the corner gives Adam a strange look when he walks by. Adam has to duck into a narrow alley to find the door to his building, fumbling with the keys to the building itself, then up three flights of stairs to the actual apartment.

It’s not a bad apartment, despite the location. The appliances are slightly outdated, but it’s clean, and the building across the street is only two stories, so his windows can actually give him a little bit of a view. Adam cares about very little else. He has his laptop, and his telescope will arrive in the mail sometime this week. He dislikes that he can’t plan it more carefully than ‘sometime’, but the mail is one of those things he could never properly work into his schedule.

Speaking of which, he has a dry erase marker and two magnetic calendars in his bag, one weekly and one monthly. He takes a few minutes to set them up now, carefully penning chores into the weekly slots. He’d prepared for this ahead of time, copying the schedule he’d once had with his father. Then he calls Harlan and Beth to reassure them that he has made it safely, which he has to do several times before either of them quite believe him, and he doesn’t look forward to the charges for international phone calls.

When that is done, he unpacks, hanging up clothes in his tiny closet and tucking his father’s flag away in a cabinet. He still has the picture of Beth she’d left on his shelf once, but he is fairly certain it would be inappropriate to hang up now that they are no longer sexually intimate. Instead, he tucks it into the photo album Beth had helped him set up, and that goes into his desk drawer. He’s supposed to look at it when he gets lonely, although that seems misguided and likely to make him feel more lonely.

His toothbrush and toiletries go into the bathroom. His laptop gets plugged in and set up on the desk. It is 9 o’clock, well past his normal dinner time, and Adam cannot procrastinate anymore. He grabs his wallet and his keys and heads out.

\-----  
The grocery store he’d looked up is within walking distance, yes, but not quite so late at night, when Adam is tired and jet lagged and just wants to eat and lay down. He’ll go grocery shopping tomorrow. In the meantime he looks for restaurants.

There _are_ restaurants, of course. He’s in the country’s capital, it’s a big, busy city, there are restaurants everywhere. But he knows if he goes in, the menu will be in Romanian, and the people will speak Romanian, and he will have to struggle through an order and counting out his money, and Adam is just far too tired and hungry right now for any of that. Restaurants were bad enough in New York, where everyone spoke English and Beth would order for him when he got overwhelmed. There is no Beth to order for him now, and Adam can’t make himself walk into any of the buildings.

A pretty girl calls to him from a bar, dark haired in a way that reminds him of Beth. She smiles and bats her eyelashes in a way Adam knows means ‘flirting’, though he has no idea why she would do that. She calls to him again, this time in English, probably used to tourists, and offers him some ‘fun,’ a vague promise that Adam can’t parse. He could go. She speaks English, she could help him find some food. He thinks she might want to have sex with him, too, although he is admittedly not very good at distinguishing sexual excitement from drunken excitement. He doesn’t really want to have sex _or_ conversation with her, though, not tonight, not ever, everything is too much and he’s only been in the country for a few hours. Adam gives up on food and heads for home, where his weighted blanket can press him down into the new ( _wrong_ ) bed and he can panic until morning, when he has to brave the grocery store or starve to death.

His skin is crawling, hands flapping anxiously at his sides, wanting to tear at his tingling, itching body until the noise stops, and this is how he looks the first time he meets Nigel Lăzărescu.

The men pressed against the door to his apartment building do not set off any warning bells in Adam’s head, because Adam is too far gone to pay any real attention to them. One man is pressed back by the other. The dark-haired man against the door is bleeding, a thick, seeping trail down his cheek, and the taller blond man has him by the shirt collar, pinned in place by a harsh grip and a knife tight against his belly, just out of Adam’s line of sight. Adam will never see the dark-haired man again, because nobody will ever see the dark-haired man again, but as he is not currently making an effort to commit either man to memory, this fact will escape him entirely.

The blonde man is whispering to the other, harsh, staccato bursts of Romanian, aggressive in their tone. Adam understands none of them, and does not care to. His eyes are on the men’s feet, both men planted firmly on his doorstep, blocking him from his apartment building. Adam is rocking, impatient and agitated.

“You need to move,” Adam says, and is dimly aware that both men look up at him. The dark-haired man babbles at him, but Adam does not speak Romanian, and is too frustrated to focus, even if he did. “You need to move, you can’t stand here.”

“Is that right?” The blond man asks, straightening up and dragging the shorter man with him, “Says who?”

Adam frowns at the man’s feet. He has nice shoes, they’re shiny despite the dirt of the alleyway. “I did,” Adam says, wrapping his arms around himself, “Weren’t you listening?”

“And who the fuck put you in charge, smartass?”

Adam frowns again, his entire face clenching up into the motion. This is going badly, he knows it is going badly, he just can’t make himself _care_. “I’m not in charge of anything,” Adam babbles, scraping his nails against the skin of his arms, soothing himself with the burn, “But you can’t stand there, I need to get in my apartment, you need to move.”

“Are you fucking _tweaking_ , kid?” The man says, and Adam cannot place the tone of voice, if he is disbelieving or angry or amused, Adam cannot place any of it without looking at his face, and Adam cannot stand the thought of looking at anyone’s face right now. “The fuck did you take?”

“I had Dramamine on the plane,” Adam babbles, confused as to why this man is asking him questions and not just _moving_ , “But that was several hours ago and should no longer be in my system.”

“Fucking _Dramamine_ ,” The blond man snorts, “And after that?”

Adam frowns, shakes his head, rocks back and forth on his heels. “Most medication should not be taken on an empty stomach,” He recites, “Unless instructions state otherwise. I get nauseous if I take medication without food.”

“ _Drugs_ , kid, cocaine, heroin, fucking E. What the fuck are you on?”

“I’m not ‘on’ anything,” Adam growls, frustrated, “I just need to get into my apartment, I need you to move, you need to move...” He whines, low in his throat, and cups his hands over his ears. Everything is too loud, he can still hear the thrumming beat of the strip club, he can feel every speck of dirt in the alleyway crusting over his skin. Adam rocks again, back and forth and back and forth until the man- _staring always staring everybody stares_ \- finally speaks again.

“You just want to go home?”

“Yes!” Adam yelps, looking up in frantic desperation. The man catches his eyes. It’s too dark in the alley to see much, but Adam thinks he might have nice eyes. He thinks the man might be… Upset? Concerned, maybe? Adam doesn’t have enough function to practice reading faces right now, the man could be laughing at dumb, dumb Adam for all Adam can tell. “I need to be inside, I can’t be out here anymore.”

“Okay,” The man says slowly. He backs his way off of the front stoop, dragging the whimpering dark-haired man with him. “We’re moving. Me and my buddy will go do our business somewhere else, won’t we?”

The dark-haired man babbles something in Romanian. Adam doesn’t hear it, his focus has narrowed down to the door, to scrambling for his keys. He doesn’t thank the man for moving, doesn’t say anything at all, just struggles with the lock, hands shaking, missing the keyhole over and over again until a body slams into the wall next to him.

Adam startles, whimpers, but it’s just the blond man pinning the dark-haired man into place with one hand, the other covering Adam’s.

“Don’t touch!” Adam yelps, yanking his hand away, “Don’t touch me, you’re hurting me!”

“Hey, hey, easy kid,” The man says, grabbing Adam’s hand again, “Just trying to fucking help.” He guides Adam’s hand to the lock again, easily aiming the key for him until the tumblers give way with a _click_. “There you go, you’re in. You need...” He clears his throat, hesitates like the words are unfamiliar to him, “You need help getting into your apartment?”

“No,” Adam insists, snatching his hand and his keys back towards his chest, “No, I just need to be _alone_.” Again, he doesn’t thank the man, although his father had always been very clear about social graces. He can feel guilty about it later. For now, he stumbles towards the stairs.

Adam does not shut the door behind him, but nor does he look back at the blond man, and so he does not notice that the man watches him, listening for Adam’s footsteps until Adam is safely locked away in his apartment.

Then he turns back to his victim with a feral grin and gets back to business.

\-----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooh boy. This is the prequel to Rulebreaker that everyone was asking me for. This is a bit different from my other WIP, in that while I know about where I want to take this fic, I haven't nailed it all down yet. I haven't decided if it will be a long fic, or a short fic with later oneshots set in the same verse. Updates won't be as frequent as for my other fic, which has a more concrete timeline and therefor a solid posting schedule, but I'm hoping to have a little something for you at least once a week. Follow me on my [Tumblr](http://www.stratumgermanitivum.tumblr.com) for fic progress. I always warn people there if I'm going to miss a day.
> 
> Some things you should know: First and foremost, I am apparently the sole person in SpaceDogs fandom who likes Beth. I think she was misguided and didn't understand Adam as much as she could have, and she made some poor decisions (Like, maybe have this discussion about love literally any time BESIDES twelve hours before we have to get on a plane? Please?), but she was ultimately a good person who cared about Adam and Adam benefited positively from his interactions with her, even if she occasionally went too far in her desire to help him be 'normal.' Good people can make mistakes, and that's my personal belief on Beth. 
> 
> I also like Gabi and Charlie, although I think Charlie is a bit of an idiot, so they'll be popping by and not in the typical 'let's get revenge' way they tend to show up. Sorry, guys, but Gabi was right to want to get the hell out of dodge, which brings me to point 3 you should know:
> 
> Nigel is not a nice guy, canonically. My Nigel is therefor also not a nice guy. This is not a Nigel who has left his crimes behind, this is not a Nigel who learned from his mistakes with Gabi, this is not an AU where he somehow is not terrible. This is Nigel who loves fiercely and fondly, but also is a possessive, jealous bastard who has canonically murdered a shit ton of people and done a lot of other terrible things. His relationship with Adam will be controlling and at least slightly abusive, and Adam will _like_ it that way. This is not a story where the abused partner realizes what's going on and escapes and moves on to be a happy and healthy relationship, nor is it a story where the abuser learns to be less of a controlling dick (Although trust me, there will be times where Adam does whatever the fuck he wants despite Nigel, and times where Nigel has to apologize for being a shit). This is endgame mildly fucked up, mildly abusive, kind of kinky SpaceDogs, and if that makes you uncomfortable you may not want to read any further.
> 
> Also the rating will be going up to Explicit. The only reason it isn't tagged as such right now is because I hate when I click a WIP and the tags and ratings never actually appear in the fic, especially if it never ends up getting finished. I only tag for things that have been posted already. But fear not, we will eventually get to the sex.
> 
> (also, yes, Nigel killed that dude. He does that sometimes.)


	2. Chapter 2

The first time Nigel met Adam Raki, he thought the kid was on a bad trip. Nigel had been in the middle of cleaning up after a bad deal, taking care of the low-level, idiot grunt who thought he could pull one over on Nigel and Darko, when the kid appeared over his shoulder, shaking and sweating and looking everywhere but at Nigel himself. Later, Nigel would feel a little bit guilty about his first association, but it was hardly his fault! The kid was rocking like a junkie with heroin shakes, and Nigel’s interaction with people included a lot of fucking junkies these days.

Then, after Adam insisted he _wasn’t_ high (And people lied, they lied all the time, but Nigel could see brutal honesty in those baby blues), Nigel thought maybe he was some kind of head case, which was another thing he could feel guilty about weeks later, but Nigel was an old pro at ignoring his own guilt.

Realistically, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter if the kid’s a junkie, or if he’s got some kinda brain damage. The apartment’s not far from Nigel and Darko’s home base, but there’s thousands of people pouring these streets every day, Nigel probably won’t ever see the kid again. But the kid had gorgeous fucking eyes and wasn’t the least bit afraid of Nigel, even when Nigel was kicking the crap out of some guy on his fucking _doorstep_ , and there was something intoxicating about that. Something that made him almost disappointed that they wouldn’t run into each other.

And then they did. Because, as it turned out, Adam walked right past the front of the strip club to get home every day.

The second time Nigel meets Adam Raki, it’s just as pure luck as the first time. He’s out for a smoke break, an extended smoke break, lighting each cigarette off the one before it, all to keep from having to go back inside and knock some heads together to make sure shit got done. He’s halfway through his third, enough that even _he_ is starting to hate the taste of ash and tobacco, when Adam walks by, head down, shoulders hunched to shield himself from the pounding base, weaving and dodging through a crowd that parts for him, intimidated by his refusal to look up at it.

He looks more like a magazine ad than a junkie, this time, in neatly-pressed khakis and a button down shirt, jacket thrown over his shoulder with one hand, messenger bag thrown over his shoulder and held against his side with the other, white-knuckled on the straps. A magazine ad, if the men in magazines had tension written across their forehead in thick stripes and didn’t ever look up from the ground.

Nigel follows him before he even knows what he’s doing, cigarette abandoned on the street (and he’s sure he’ll get shit from the girls for that, Darko’ll put ‘em up to it, they take pride in their joint).

“Hey! Hey, kid!”

The kid keeps walking, putting as much distance between himself and the club as he can manage before Nigel catches up to him. Nigel grabs him by the shoulder.

“Kid, I’m talking to you.”

The kid flinches away, jerking out of Nigel’s hold almost violently, wide-eyed and startled. For a second, those big blue eyes meet Nigel’s, before they slide right off of him and into the space over his shoulder.

“You shouldn’t touch people without asking them first. It’s rude.”

Nigel snorts out a laugh. “Fucking rude to ignore people when they’re talking to you, isn’t it?”

The kid frowns, face pinched and confused. “I didn’t know you were talking to me. I’m not a child. I’m almost thirty.”

Nigel wouldn’t have put the kid at a day over 22, not with a baby face like that. Good. He feels a bit less creepy following the kid around if he’s not so much older.

“Well, I’m talking to you,” Nigel confirms, trying to catch the kid’s eyes. “Wanted to see if you were okay after the other night.”

The kid frowns, and his eyes glaze over Nigel’s features, quick little darts taking him in. Absorbing. Nigel feels like the kid’s looking right through him. It’s uncomfortably intimate for someone who won’t look him dead on.

“You were blocking the door,” The kid finally says, and Nigel laughs again.

“Yeah, that’s me. Always in the way.”

“You’re not in my way right now,” The kid points out, “I just needed to be home.”

“Thought you might be on a bad trip.”

“No, the plane ride was fine, just long.”

“You take everything so fucking literally, princess?”

The kid just looks at him, blank-faced, for a long moment until Nigel clues in.

“If you don’t like ‘kid,’ and you don’t like ‘princess,’ you’re gonna have to give me more to go on.”

“Oh. Oh!” The kid straightens up to his full height (Still smaller than Nigel, just small enough to be intriguing…), and holds out his hand like it’s a fucking _job interview_. “Adam Raki.”

“Nigel Lăzărescu,” Nigel says, shaking his hand. The kid’s- _Adam’s_ handshake is terrible, too stiff, like he’s never touched another human being before. He pulls back quickly, like the touch is too much for him, like he can’t bear to keep touching Nigel. Nigel wants to punch him, for a split second, but then Adam keeps talking and he’s distracted once more.

“It is very nice to meet you, Nigel.”

“Yeah, you too ki- _Adam_.”

Adam looks him over, frowns like he can’t puzzle something out, and then speaks again. “Yes.”

He doesn’t deliver it with any context, any clues or hints as to what the fuck he’s talking about. “Fucking _what?”_

Adam’s frown stretches deeper at the language. He shoves his hands in his pockets, a defensive posture Nigel is well-acquainted with. “Yes, I take everything literally. Most things. I’ve been practicing with metaphorical concepts, but I usually can’t tell when they’re being applied.”

Nigel stares at him. Adam hunches in on himself a little further, bundling himself into a tinier package. “Well,” Nigel finally drawls, “I’ll just have to be more clear next time we talk, won’t I?”

“Next time?” Adam asks, and his tone is still mostly flat, but there’s a spark of something in it. Surprise, hope. Need, desperation. He’s a lonely fucking kid, Nigel can see that in every carefully stitched piece of him.

“Yeah, Adam. Next time. Smoke break’s over, I’ve got to get back. But you come talk to me when you see me, alright?”

“Yeah. Yes, okay.”

\-----  
  
Nigel Lăzărescu is not his friend. Adam has learned to stop assuming people are his friend just because they tolerate conversation with him once or twice. But Nigel is still the person most pleased to see Adam on a daily basis, as far as Adam can tell.

It’s not that his coworkers don’t speak English. On the contrary, one of Bucharest’s more pleasant surprises has been the amount of people who speak English. In particular, the couple who run the nearest grocery store are very patient with Adam, especially when he gets frustrated over counting his money. Change seems to be something completely superfluous in Bucharest. Adam painstakingly counts out how much he should receive, only to have everyone hand him back something rounded up. He has yet to see anyone actually _use_ minor change, he doesn’t understand the point and it frustrates him.

Many things frustrate him. Like the fact that his coworkers can all speak English, they just _don’t_. Adam has a cubicle for some semblance of privacy, but it offers no soundproofing. He can hear his coworkers chatting, a mix of both Romanian and English for the benefit of Lucy, the only other foreigner in Adam’s department, but the second Adam walks by everything is in Romanian.

Adam is used to cliques. He understands that a workplace can be close knit, that it can be hard to accept a new person when the newest person before him started working back in 2005 and Adam has taken someone else’s job after their retirement. He understands these things logically, because Beth and Harlan have both helpfully explained them to him, but it is still very frustrating. It reminds him very much of high school, and then college, when people decided they didn’t want to talk to Adam before they had ever actually tried talking to Adam. He didn’t like it. And it was, in all honesty, very lonely.

Life before Beth had been simple, with Adam and his dad and the occasional painful small talk with a coworker. But this was not ‘life before Beth’. There would never be ‘life before Beth’ again. Everything that ever happened for the rest of Adam’s life would, by definition, be ‘after Beth,’ and Adam was used to it already. He was used to having someone to talk to, about space and stars and raccoons, and occasionally things that Beth was interested in that Adam didn’t, exactly, understand, but that he enjoyed listening to because of the way Beth would get excited and start to giggle. He was used to someone he could eat dinner with, if he so chose, and perhaps even walk to the store with if they both needed to shop at the same time (because Beth did not do things like this on a schedule, normal people didn’t do everything on a schedule, Beth shopped when she absolutely needed food and not a moment before, and it was baffling).

And now here he was, in Romania, and Adam had no one. So, even though he knew Nigel was not actually his friend, he took him at face value when Nigel said to come talk to him if Adam saw him again.

(And yes, Adam took everything at face value anyway, but he would have chosen to do so this time even if he _did_ understand the things people didn’t say.)

The third time he meets Nigel, he waves hello from the edge of the street, ducking his head to avoid the funny looks a few passersby give him. Then he panics and keeps walking before Nigel can actually do more than wave back.

The fourth time, he says hello with his words, and makes forcible small-talk about the weather until Nigel rolls his eyes and asks him to talk about something actually _interesting_.

“Did you know there are planets where it rains diamonds?”

“Shit _really,_ kid?”

“Nigel.”

“ _Adam._ ”

The fifth time Adam runs into Nigel, a full three weeks after their first meeting, somebody throws up on him.

He’s there in front of the club again, waving to Nigel on his way past. He’s decided he doesn’t have time to stop today; he stayed late at work, caught up and hyper-fixated on his coding, and now his entire routine is off and he’s already a little twitchy. And then there’s a girl, throwing herself at him, clinging bodily to Adam, using him to prop herself up.

“Woah, sorry buddy,” She says, as Adam goes stiff and tries to pry her sharp-nailed fingers off his shoulders, “Hey. Hey, hold still a second, I can’t breathe.”

Adam would feel sorry for her, he really would, but he’s too busy starting to panic as she wobbles against him, tearing a stitch in the shoulder of his sweater, and then she leans back, looks up at him, _pats his face_ , and then vomits all down his front.

It’s awful. It’s terrible. It’s so many things, the smell of her, the feel, if Adam thinks about the sensations too long he’ll lose it. He scrunches his eyes closed as the girl’s friends tug her back into their circle, away from him, away from the mess, and he rocks onto his heels, onto his toes, back and forth until a hand comes down heavy on his shoulder.

“Hey, kid… Adam, come on, come inside, let me get you cleaned up.”

Adam wants to flinch away. He wants to crouch down right there in the street and rock, because tonight he has been ignored and touched and _thrown up on_ and he’s so hungry that the world has started to twist in a painful pattern.

But Nigel’s hand is heavy like his weighted blanket. He grips Adam firm and secure, leading him into the noise, and most importantly, he _doesn’t touch Adam anywhere else_. He keeps that hand just tight enough to guide and leaves Adam his own, very necessary space. At least until the thrum of the base line overwhelms Adam, and then he goes willingly, tucking his face against Nigel’s shoulder, trying to drown out the sound by blocking his ears between Nigel’s shoulder and his own. Nigel obliges him as if he’s done it a thousand times before, as if he’s used to messed-up autistic men tucking themselves into his chest on a regular basis. All he does is shift, wrapping his arm around Adam’s shoulders to pull him close and whisper in his ear.

“Hey. It’s alright. Just a few more steps, I’ve got an office, you’ll fucking love it. Nice and dim and soundproof.”

Adam can barely make out the shape of the words, so he has no choice but to trust Nigel, letting the man guide him through the crowd until everything goes blessedly silent with the click of a door latch.

The office is sparsely furnished, a heavy oak desk and a thickly padded couch. There’s an ominous stain in front of the desk. Adam latches onto it as a focal point, something to look at as Nigel guides him to sit down on the couch. Adam rocks there, arms wrapped around himself, resisting Nigel’s touch until he realizes Nigel is still helping, not hurting. Then he lets Nigel strip him out of his sweater.

“There we go. Better now, right?”

Softness doesn’t come easily to Nigel. It sounds wrong in his voice, but it soothes Adam regardless. Adam gnaws at his lower lip, rocking and humming softly, calming himself in tiny increments.

“Not a bad fucking trip, then,” Nigel says over Adam’s humming, “Just something you do, huh kid?”

“Adam,” Adam croaks, the defense automatic. Nigel smiles to hear his voice.

“Yeah, always able to fucking correct me, no matter how fucked up you get, aren’t you?”

Adam nods, because it seems to be the answer Nigel is looking for.

“Right.” Nigel kneels in front of him, checks his pupils even though Adam has not been injured, presses two fingers under his jaw to feel the rapid flutter of Adam’s pulse. “Want to tell me what the fuck that’s all about?”

“Stimulation,” Adam whispers, “It gets… It’s too much. Sensory processing and emotional drain. I don’t feel things the way you do, the way other people do. Physically and otherwise.”

“So you get overwhelmed,” Nigel sums up, whistling when Adam nods, “Christ Adam, you moved to the wrong fucking city.”

“My job is here,” Adam informs him, the only answer that makes sense.

“Get a different job.”

“I like this one,” Adam says stubbornly, rubbing one of the dry corners of his sweater through his fingers when Nigel finally hands it over. He rubs it over and over until he can feel the soft scrape of the yarn all the way up his arm and through his teeth.

“You gonna be okay now?”

“No,” Adam says, even though he is currently feeling a lot better. Nigel swears loud enough to make Adam flinch.

“Fucking- What do you mean, fucking _no_ , Adam?” He sighs and runs a hand through his shaggy hair, “We got you cleaned up, you stopped shaking.”

Rocking, not shaking, but Adam does not correct him. He is too tired to keep correcting Nigel. “Right now. But I know it’s coming. I can feel it. My sweater. It’s ruined.”

“What, your landlord too fucking cheap to invest in a laundry room?”

“It’s Friday,” Adam explains, “I don’t do laundry on Fridays. I do laundry on Tuesdays.”

“So make an exception.”

“I can’t _do_ that,” Adam says, frustrated. No one ever understands that there just isn’t room in his world for exceptions. “If I do laundry on a Friday, it will shift my whole week, everything will be wrong and out of order.” And there’s the panic, that low-level bubble in his stomach that stretches and expands until Adam wants to be sick, the panic he knew would set in if he thought about it and then Nigel made him think about it. “So I can’t, I _can’t_ do laundry until Tuesday, and by then the sweater will be ruined, and my dad bought me that sweater, and he will never buy me another sweater again, so I’ll have to throw away the sweater and-”

Nigel’s hands land on his head this time, both of them carding through and pushing hair away from his face, forcing his head back until Adam has to settle on a spot around Nigel’s mouth to avoid the too-much of his eyes.

“Adam,” Nigel says, firm and just loud enough to overtake Adam’s senses, “Stop. Breathe.”

“I can’t-”

“You can,” Nigel interrupts, ducking forward until their foreheads press together and all Adam can see and smell and breathe is _Nigel_. His hands grip tight in Adam’s hair, pinpricks of almost-pain that narrow Adam’s focus down until the world finally is shut away. “Do as I say. Breathe for me.”

Nigel demonstrates, an exaggerated, slow breath that Adam can’t help but mimic. Then again, and again, until Adam’s pulse finally begins to settle and stop banging against the inside of his head. Then, Nigel smiles at him, close and huge. Adam’s face twists up into the same grin before he can help it, falling back on mirroring like he did as a child, keeping himself safe and whole by following someone else’s lead.

“There’s a good boy,” Oh, and something about that feels nice, pleasant and reassuring in a way nothing has felt since the plane took off. Adam blossoms under the praise, his smile taking on something less Nigel, more _Adam._ “I’m going to take care of the sweater for you, okay?”

“But-”

“Shh...” Nigel hushes him with a finger to Adam’s lips that should grate more than it does. With Nigel blocking out the rest of the world, though, Adam can handle his touches and sounds, something singular to focus on. “Say ‘Yes, Nigel.’”

“Yes, Nigel,” Adam mimics obediently, because really, it’s much easier than trying to argue with someone holding his head in their hands.

“Good boy,” Nigel says again, and it still doesn’t bother him. Adam doesn’t know why it doesn’t bother him. “Now, I’m going to take care of the sweater. It’ll be squeaky fucking clean net time you see me, got that? And you’re going to- to- what do you fucking do on Fridays?”

“It’s late,” Adam informs him, “Normally I would eat my dinner and watch an episode of my show, and then shower and go to bed.”

“Then that’s what you’ll do.”

“But everything’s-”

“Fucking Christ, Adam,” Nigel’s not yelling, but Adam flinches anyway, wincing at the tug from the remaining hand in his hair, “No, no I’m sorry, you didn’t- fuck, it’s not you, it’s me, okay? I’m a fucking cunt, I know. You’ll get used to it. But shut up and listen to me, okay? Listen and don’t interrupt.”

Nigel pauses like he’s waiting for an answer, but he told Adam to shut up, and he’s still tugging Adam’s hair, so Adam does. Nigel looks surprised.

“Okay. That’s… Good, good boy. So, you’re gonna go home. I’ll walk you home, it’s a fucking disaster out there, junkies and wasted fucking assholes everywhere, no place for a pretty thing like you to be walking alone-”

Adam wants to interrupt there, but Nigel is still talking, still holding him, and Adam was told not to speak.

“- And you’ll eat your fucking dinner and watch your fucking show, and get showered and go to bed, and it’s not going to matter what time it is, is it? You’re just going to do what I tell you, and you can start fresh in the morning.”

It’s not that easy, it’s never that easy, that’s not how Adam’s mind _works_ , but there are pinpricks of pain hyper-focused along his scalp and praise echoing in his head from the first person to think Adam was anything _good_ in a long time, so Adam doesn’t argue. Adam says nothing, actually, until Nigel catches on and huffs out a laugh.

“You can talk. But first, say it again.”

Adam stares at him for a long moment until Nigel clarifies.

“Say ‘Yes, Nigel.”

“Yes, Nigel.”

“Good boy.”

\-----  
Nigel walks him home. Nigel does more than walk him home, Nigel comes up into his apartment and curses up a storm when Adam forbids him from smoking inside and banishes him right back out. He returns when Adam is eating his mac & cheese, not his preferred brand but good enough, and watching his show. He stays, silent when Adam needs him to be, watching while Adam mouths his way through Inside The Actors studio, and is right there when Adam starts to panic because it’s 10 and he hasn’t showered yet.

“No. Fu- _No_ , Adam, we went through this, what are you supposed to do?”

“Shower and go to bed,” Adam recites, flapping his hands, “No matter what time it is.”

“That’s right. Hop to it.”

It’s one of those turns of phrase Adam hates, but that’s not why he pauses in the doorway. “I… I can’t go to sleep if you’re here. You’re a guest. It’s rude.”

Nigel laughs and shakes his head. “Alright, alright, I know when I’m not wanted,” He says, and Adam almost panics again because this is the closest thing he has to friendship in this country.

“No, wait, that’s not what I meant-”

“Adam!” Adam freezes, hand still outstretched towards Nigel, and Nigel…

Nigel _smiles_ at him, like Adam is something _interesting_ and not something obnoxious or rude.

“Figure of speech, Adam. Figure of fucking speech. You don’t think you’ll get rid of me that fucking easily, do you? I’ll still be waiting for you when you walk home. In fact...”

Nigel pulls one of the dry-erase markers off the fridge and scribbles something right across the stainless steel. It’s a phone number.

“You’re gonna call me in the morning, bright and fuckin’ early, right? Call me and tell me you did what I told you, understood?”

“I wake very early-”

“Adam,” Sharp, stern, but Nigel is still smiling at him, “Am I understood?”

“Yes, Nigel.”

And it is not the beginning of something, not quite yet. But it is a stepping stone, and when Adam goes to bed, he sleeps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ughhhh I dunno, guys. This chapter fought me tooth and fucking nail, until I had to scrap 2000 words and start fresh, and I'm STILL not happy about it. I thought present tense was going to be the best for what I had in mind, but it's a pain to write in, and nothing seems to flow organically. I don't knoooowww. 
> 
> But I got to have D/s undertones and we all know how much I love me some D/s undertones, so it's something.
> 
> I dunno. I know where I want them. I have everything planned out. Once they're together, I have pages and PAGES of stuff for them to do. It's just a matter of getting the there. But we will get there!
> 
> Next time: Nigel does a little digging. Adam makes a friend! A non-creepy, non-drug dealing friend!


	3. Chapter 3

In the morning, Adam stares at the phone, for long, excruciating minutes. He knows what he’s supposed to be doing. It’s echoing in his head, ‘ _Yes, Nigel,’_ in his head and tugging sharply at something inside him. Something warm.

But he can’t do it. He can’t pick up the phone.

Phone calls have always been difficult for Adam. Communication in general is difficult. He can’t read people’s expressions, can’t follow words that don’t mean what they’re supposed to. Without seeing them at all, without being able to so much as watch the movements of their mouths to read their lips, he is completely lost. Sounds get jumbled up in his head, he misses out on things like syntax and tone, worse than even his usual standard, and half the time he loses focus and misses entire chunks of the conversation.

When he calls Harlan and Beth, he uses Skype, so he can practice watching the twitches and tics of their faces. But Nigel hasn’t given him a Skype username. He’s given Adam a phone number. A series of digits to connect them voice to voice and Adam _cannot do it._

A text. A text will be fine.

‘ _I did what you told me to. I showered and then I went to bed.’_

There. That was exactly what Nigel had wanted to know. It would satisfy him, and Adam could go about his normal Saturday-

The phone was ringing.

The phone was _ringing_.

Nobody called Adam, Adam only had his phone for emergencies, for Harlan and Beth to check on him when there wasn’t time to Skype, and for apps like his maps and his bank account. But even when checking on him, Harlan and Beth were usually courteous enough to text instead.

People did not call Adam, but the phone was ringing.

Adam watched it ring, some unpleasantly cheery tune that grated on his frayed nerves. Finally, it fell silent, and Adam hesitantly reached for it.

_One Missed Call_ , the screen read, and the number was the same as the one scrawled across Adam’s refrigerator.

Should he text again? He could explain that he didn’t like phone calls, but it would be so much typing, and he would have to tell Nigel all those broken things about himself-

It was ringing again. Adam panicked and dropped it. It skidded across the floor to rest, face up, in front of the sink.

It rang three more times, in full, twisting Adam further and further into knots with each call. Finally, a text lit up the screen, then two more while Adam tried to work up the courage to text them.

_**Answer the phone, Adam.** _

How Adam was supposed to do that when Nigel was no longer calling was beyond Adam, but Adam would not have done it anyway.

_**You were supposed to call me right away.** _

_**You promised you were going to listen, Adam**._

_I don’t like the phone,_ Adam finally replies, fingers tapping an anxious dance across the back of the phone’s hard casing, _It’s confusing and it makes it hard to talk to people._

Several long minutes go by, during which Adam tries to keep his anxiety at bay by imagining Nigel typing a series of increasingly foul words, then erasing them, then typing them again. It’s a surprisingly realistic vision, even though Adam is not known for being particularly imaginative.

_**Alright, I can work with this,**_ Nigel finally responds, _**Baby steps. You want your sweater back, right?**_

Adam debates over his response, then finally settles on one that has so far gotten him decent results. _Yes, Nigel._

_**Great. Then you’ll come get it tomorrow.** _

Adam hesitates. He rereads the words again, and then a third time. Nigel didn’t specify, but Adam knows. There is only one place he would typically go to meet Nigel, and he doesn’t want to.

He takes too long to answer, and another texts comes through.

_**Don’t panic on me, Adam. You’ve been inside the club before.** _

_I was with you. I wasn’t paying attention._

_**You won’t be paying attention this time, either. You’ll just come in and go right back to the room. It’s a Sunday, it won’t be half as busy as a Friday night.** _

_What would be the point? You could come here. Or I could meet you on a smoke break._

_**Because I told you to.** _

It settled into Adam, into that twisty, anxious place. It soothed him more than it should have.

_**Because you like to listen,**_ the next text read. Adam set the phone down on the table, his hands trembling too badly to hold it steady. He did. He did like to listen. Things had been so wrong since moving to Bucharest, so confusing and complicated. But with Nigel, last night, all he’d had to do was listen. He didn’t have to try and hold things in place himself. Nigel had helped. Adam wanted him to help again.

_Yes, Nigel._ _I’ll be there._

_**Good boy.** _

Adam stares at the words, just text on a screen, nothing more than 0s and 1s. He stares at them and wonders why no one ever told him it could be that simple.

\-----  
Nigel is a smart man, a strong man. He’s a lot of good things, actually, despite what others might say. He’s a good boss to his girls, ask any whore in Bucharest and they’ll tell you who to work for. He’s a good business partner, and, as Darko can attest, a good friend to have when shit goes sour.

What he is _not,_ is patient.

Adam is a fascinating little creature, all weird little quirks and wide, innocent blue eyes. He folds beautifully under instruction, but getting him to that point, as Nigel had learned from the phone debacle, was like pulling teeth. Nigel had to be careful to dance around all the little things that might set Adam off, and there was absolutely no way of guessing what those things were until they happened.

So on Saturday morning, he sent an underling to do some digging. The man comes back on Sunday with a thick folder, thicker than it had any right to be. Nigel raises an eyebrow at the man when he opens the folder to find several discreet shots of Adam entering and leaving various buildings in Bucharest, clearly unaware of the cameraman.

“What have we here, Ioan?”

Ioan shrinks a little under Nigel’s consideration. “Boss Darko saw you talking to the kid. Thought you might ask for this sooner or later. He’s had me and Gheorghe on it since last week.”

“Doesn’t miss a fucking thing, does he?” Nigel muses, flipping through the photos. There was a lot of information here, stretching back to Adam’s time in America. “Him and his fucking _cameras_.”

Ioan nods. “Boss Darko says to remind you that he’s not the only one watchin’, if you’re doin’ all your business out on the sidewalk.”

“Tell Darko to say that fucking shit to my fucking face, I don’t need to hear it from _you_.”

Ioan cringes, shrinking back. “Yessir.”

Nigel sighs. “Well, fucking talk then. You did all this fucking work, I might as well get something out of it.”

Ioan immediately starts in on whatever little spiel he and Gheorghe had practiced, prepping themselves for whenever Nigel would finally ask.

“Adam Raki, American, formerly of New York. 29 years old. He works as an engineer, designing microchips or some shit. As far as we can tell, he’s good at it, but we couldn’t get any more detail than that. None of his coworkers would be any help. They don’t talk to him. He’s got some sort of… His brain’s all fucked up-”

Nigel’s hand comes down hard on the desk, the loud bang echoing through the room. Ioan flinches back, sharp and scared enough to make Nigel’s warning glare turn almost feral with glee.

“Try again,” Nigel drawls, slow and seemingly patient.

“S-sorry, boss,” Ioan stammers, “I just mean… He’s got this thing, this autism thing? He’s-”

“I know what autism is,” Nigel interrupts, “So the kids a little fucking different. He’ll fit right in.”

“He will?” Ioan looks confused. Nigel brushes him off entirely and returns to the folder. No social network information, so Adam’s smart enough to keep himself off all the Facebooks and Myspaces that make Nigel’s head hurt. It means Ioan and Gheorghe would have had to work harder to find out what they did, and Nigel is almost impressed with them. Almost.

Nigel flips over another sheet and comes face to face with Adam’s sleeping figure, curled up on his side in his bed, tangled in the sheets. It’s not a shot through the window, no. One of them had been in the apartment with Adam. “What’s this then?”

Nigel’s men were not prone to nervous gestures. They were good men, proud men. In the face of Nigel’s clear irritation, however, Ioan looks like he wants to fucking piss himself.

“We checked the apartment to get more information,” Ioan says, sounding confused. It’s not the first time he’s been sent to spy on a mark, after all. A midnight break-in was standard procedure, a chance to poke around at the private lives people hide in their drawers. Nigel tries not to see red.

“Did either of you drug him for this?”

Ioan shakes his head. “Nah, didn’t need to. Kid’s a heavy sleeper, and I’m not some huge oaf like Gheorghe. I left Gheorghe on look-out.”

Nigel nods, tracing his fingers over the edge of the photo, carefully away from Adam’s sleep-slackened features. “No more of this,” He says, low and dangerous, “I don’t care what Darko says to you. Stay out of the kid’s apartment.” It sets Nigel’s teeth on edge. His men are good men, but the idea of someone else invading Adam’s space while Adam was so vulnerable…

Ioan is on of Nigel’s smarter employees. He hesitates before he speaks, but ultimately decides Nigel would rather hear it. “Boss, it was real easy to get in. The lock on the building itself is all rusted, and the kid’s deadbolt doesn’t even work.”

Nigel gives up on holding back his irritation. He’s never been any good at it anyway. “Fucking lazy landlords,” he swears, shuffling through the papers until he finds the information he’s looking for. “Pay him a visit. Handle the situation.”

Ioan nods and leaves. Nigel spreads the papers and photos across his death and shoots a quick text message to Darko. He’s likely just down the hall, but Nigel has no desire to see his smug face right now.

_You’re a fucking cunt._

A moment later, the reply comes in: _**You’re welcome.**_

\-----  
Nigel had been telling the truth: the club was far less crowded on a Sunday than it had been on Friday night. Far less crowded, for one of the most popular strip clubs in Bucharest, is still far too crowded for Adam. He cringes his way through the crowd, curling in on himself. There is a different guard blocking the hallway when Adam finally makes his way to it, and for half a second Adam worries that he will be turned away, barred from social interaction once again. Instead, for the first time in his life, Adam is ‘on the list.’ The man lets him in with scarcely a nod in his direction, and Adam finds himself counting doors, trying to remember which one he’s meant to be in.

Adam hadn’t been paying attention the last time. He’d been too focused on slowly melting down, a state he is carefully driving himself back into. He can barely hear the thumping beat from the club, but a bare minimum of sound is still sound, and Adam is still tingling from feeling the music pump through his skin, too many bodies pressing in on him.

On this third pass down the hall, Adam bumps into a child, maybe eleven years old, heading down from the opposite direction, towards one of the doors Adam has already passed. The child looks up from his game and babbles something in Romanian. Adam is shaking from the noise and the crowds. He can barely muster up a handful of words.

“I’m j-just looking for Nigel.”

The kid rolls his eyes and smacks his fist against the closest door, shouting something through it when Nigel’s voice shouts from behind it. “That one,” He tells Adam, and by the time Nigel wrenches the door open, he’s disappeared into another office.

“Son of a bitch,” Nigel swears at the kid’s back. He offers Adam a sheepish smile. “I see you met Darko’s spawn. He’s a spoiled little shit, don’t let him fuck with you.”

None of those words mean anything to Adam, who’s hands have started to beat a rhythm against his thighs. Nigel frowns down at them and then grabs them in his own, squeezing tight when Adam tries to pull away.

“None of that now,” Nigel lectures, pulling Adam through the door and sealing them inside the office. Adam shakes his head, yanking at his captured hands.

“You can’t do that,” He tells Nigel, shaking his head again and again until he’s dizzy with it. “You can’t do that, you’re making it worse.”

“Shh, trust me.” To Adam’s surprise, Nigel presses him down to sit on the couch, and then fills his hands with something soft and malleable to stim instead of his own body.

It’s clay. Good clay, not play-doh, which had always set Adam off as a child with it’s strong scents and habit of leaving technicolor residue on everything it touched. Adam works it back and forth until it loses some of its stiffness and he can breathe again.

At some point during all this, Nigel had sat next to him and wrapped an arm around Adam’s shoulder. It’s nice and heavy, weighing him down into the couch. Adam leans into it as soon as he comes back to himself, pleased to find Nigel welcoming the touch, pulling him tight against his side until they press up in line, side to side, a point of contact to ground him.

“Better?” Nigel asks when Adam’s hands finally slow. Adam nods and spares a glance at him.

He can’t read Nigel’s face. Adam can’t read most people’s faces, honestly, unless they’re projecting a single, firm emotion. Crying means sad, except when it doesn’t. Laughing means happy, except when it doesn’t. Nigel is smiling now, and Adam has hope that it’s a good thing.

“I came,” Adam points out.

“You did,” Nigel agrees, and hands him a piece of chocolate. Adam stares at it for a long time, until it starts to leave a melted smear against his palm. “Positive reinforcement,” Nigel finally explains, gripping Adam’s hand and guiding it upwards until the chocolate slid between his lips. “Don’t chew. Savor.”

It’s good chocolate, even if Adam doesn’t entirely understand. He sucks on the chocolate as Nigel wipes his hand clean of chocolate and then reaches up to press a loose strand of hair away from Adam’s face.

“There’s a good boy,” Nigel whispers, his face entirely too close. It startles Adam so badly that he swallows, and loses what remained of the chocolate.

“Why-” Adam tries and fails to ask. Nigel studies him for a long, quiet moment, frowning. Then he stands, fetching Adam’s sweater from his desk and pressing it into Adam’s hands.

“Because you like it,” Nigel says, staring down at Adam’s hands, at the way they clutch the sweater, fingers rubbing over the soft fabric. “Because I like it when people listen. And because it works. You’re here, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Would you have come in here if I hadn’t told you to?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t like crowds. Or loud noises. There are too many people and they touch me. It makes my skin hurt.”  
Nigel sits next to him again, reaches out to trail a finger over Adam’s thumb where it rubs the collar of his sweater. Adam freezes, every piece of him locked onto that touch. It’s not gentle, not the light sort of touch that Beth would try and that always made him itch. This is solid, secure. Nigel has no hesitation in touching Adam.

“There are a lot of things that do that to you, aren’t there?” Nigel asks him. Adam thinks about the crowds of New York City, about the loop he gets stuck in when dinner is late or his alarm doesn’t go off, and nods.

Nigel watches him, thoughtful. “It’s easier if someone else handles it, isn’t it? If all you have to worry about is listening?”

Adam looks at the bridge of Nigel’s nose, just close enough to enjoy the color of his eyes without actually having to look at them, and nods again.

Nigel nods in return, and smiles at him. Adam thinks it’s a real smile, genuine happiness. Happiness at something _Adam_ has done. “Well then,” Nigel says, “We’ll just have to push your boundaries a bit more often.”

Nigel doesn’t tell him to do anything else in the office, or make him answer any more questions, or clarify what he means by ‘pushing boundaries.’ He does walk Adam home, though, close enough to touch, if Adam wanted to, and at Adam’s doorstep, Nigel brushes his hands through Adam’s hair again and leans in to be heard.

“Dinner. Then shower, then bed. At whatever pace you need. But in the morning, Adam, you’ll answer when I call.”

And Adam just nods.

\-----

In the morning, Nigel calls twice, and both calls go unanswered. He’s not surprised. Even though Adam is obedient to a fault, Nigel is not so egotistical as to think he can cure 29 years worth of defensive behaviors and neurological tics with a bite of expensive chocolate. He’ll have to think of a proper response regardless. Adam will be expecting it, even if he won’t be entirely sure _what_ he’s expecting. Adam practically preens every time Nigel tells him how good he’s been, it won’t mean anything at all if there’s never anything to compare it to.

Nigel has just laid out a plan when the phone finally rings, and this does not surprise him either. “Hello, Adam,” He says, and waits, patient for once in his life.

“ _I tried,”_ Adam finally says, his voice creaking through the speaker, _“I tried, but I couldn’t, I couldn’t do it.”_

“Shh...” Nigel hushes him, soft as he can manage with his own innate roughness, “You made up for it. Can’t expect you to get everything right the first time, can I?”

“ _I tried_ ,” Adam repeats, sounding a bit affronted this time.

“You did. I’ll remember. Did you do what I told you to?”

“ _I do those things every night, Nigel,”_ comes the confused response.

“That’s not what I asked you. Did you do what I told you to?”

“ _Yes, Nigel.”_

“Good boy.”

There’s a long moment of silence, during which Nigel can almost picture the soft, pleased flush that will have settled over Adam’s face.

“ _I have to go to work_ ,” Adam finally says, breaking the spell that has settled over Nigel. Nigel wants to laugh, but he knows Adam will take it the wrong way if he does.

“Go to work, then. I’ll talk to you later.”

And Nigel doesn’t really know what he’s fucking doing yet, or why, but he’s enjoying it, and doesn’t that just beat all?

\-----  
Adam does not eat lunch at the lab.

He knows that the others do, that there is an entire big break room dedicated to lunch and other varieties of not-working, but Adam has never set foot in it, besides his obligatory trip on the first-day tour. It would risk too much interaction with people who still looked at him funny when he walked the halls. He didn’t want to have to stammer his way through hopeful conversation that always seemed to end poorly.

Instead, Adam spent his hour lunch break in a different location each time. This was stressful, and not out of any real desire. Rather, it was because he’d yet to find a location he felt comfortable in. Not like curling up in Central Park, although an actual park had been the first place he tried. Back in New York, Adam had always journeyed to Central Park after dark, looking up at the stars. Noon was a lot more crowded, families and their picnics set out everywhere. _Everywhere,_ Bucharest was full of picnics. Adam, who would have eaten inside if he’d had a better option, didn’t really get it.

This week, Adam was trying a brightly-lit side street. The restaurants all had outdoor tables set up, and as long as he bought something to drink, no one looked at him too funny for unpacking food from home.

The music overtakes Adam slowly. He doesn’t listen to much music to begin with. Poetry, in all its forms, is full of people not saying what they mean, and it frustrates him. Besides, he works best in silence, no chatter to distract him from the task at hand.

This, though, this is different. Adam has listened to orchestral music before. It’s superior to normal music due to its lack of poetry, but there is so much of it that Adam has never really bothered to dig much further. Now it washes over him, the shuddering of strings sinking in under his skin.

It has not occurred to Adam before that music could _feel_ good. Physically speaking. But it does. His body wants to tremble with it, close enough to make out every variation but not so close that the strings make his teeth begin to ache with the volume.

The woman who makes the music is just a few tables away, drawing a bow over a large instrument propped before her- cello, some part of Adam remembers-, and accepting tips in a dish before her on the table. Adam watches her, fascinated. The look on her face is not any clear-cut expression he recognizes. She plays with her eyes closed, feeling her way across the strings, and her mouth does not quite smile, but when the piece finishes, she drops her bow and absolutely beams.

It’s a nice smile, Adam likes it, but what he likes more is the music, the way it had flowed through her limbs, down into the cello, and then out to echo within Adam himself. His father had taken him to the symphony once, on the encouragement of a teacher who had read that music was good for autistic children, but it had been packed full of people, too crowded, and Adam had gone into a full meltdown before they’d even made it to their seats. He has never heard anything like this before. Adam moves before he can stop himself.

“Are you going to play more?”

The woman looks up at him with a smile, on that Adam recognizes as the ‘customer smile’ so many people in shops wear.

“Would you like me to?” She asks, and Adam nods and sits himself down at her table, watching intently. She wavers under his gaze, like most people do when Adam is too much, and after a moment, Adam remembers his manners.

“Oh, right!” He pulls a blue-toned bill from his wallet and sets it into her dish. She stares at it for a long moment, long enough that Adam starts to panic.

Then she plays.

It’s too loud at first, now that he’s so close. Adam shoves back from the table and takes a few steps back, and the woman falters for only a second before she loses herself in the music again. With a few more feet of distance between them, Adam can enjoy it. He closes his eyes like the woman does and just _listens_. People have said before that music means something, that it is telling a story. Adam has no idea what story he is being told, and he doesn’t care. He cares that his skin tingles pleasantly with the sound and that the whole alley sounds like nothing but music, all the noises of ‘people’ washed out and pushed aside.

When the music finishes, the woman stares. Adam is used to this. He smiles back at her and says, “Thank you.”

“You are very welcome,” The woman says, glancing back at the bill in the dish. Adam wonders if he was supposed to leave more. “Would you like to sit down…?”

She stares at him, waiting. This, Adam knows, from watching Beth. The woman wants his name.

“Adam,” He tells her, sitting back in the seat he’d abandoned. “Adam Raki.”

“Gabi Ibanescu.”

Gabi is not like Beth. She curses a lot more, for one, almost like Nigel does. And she smokes, offering Adam a thin cigarette which he enthusiastically declines. But she is also a lot like Beth, in the way she smiles when Adam gets excited, rambling about his pitiful experiences with music and the few facts he can remember about how string instruments produce sound, a smattering of things learned in his childhood, when music was forced upon him as a weekly torture in elementary school. Gabi smiles, gently corrects a few things Adam is mistaken about, and when Adam checks his watch and starts to panic, she helps him pack his lunch back into his bag.

“You are an interesting person, Adam Raki,” She says to him, which is not something Adam hears very often, “If you would like to learn more about music, I will be playing again tomorrow.”

And Adam, who has not had a positive social experience in a long time (Besides the ones with Nigel, and Adam doesn’t think it counts if all he has to do is do as he’s told, it’s too easy), eagerly promises to return.

\-----  
Nigel is not having a smoke break when Adam walks by that night. Adam is disappointed, for a long, lingering moment. And then he thinks about it.

He thinks about Gabi, pretty, talented Gabi. She is the kind of girl that high school peers had described as ‘out of Adam’s league’ (Although they had ascribed the term indiscriminately to all women), and she had not only talked to him, but asked to talk to him again tomorrow. He had successfully navigated interaction, somehow, without Beth squeezing his arm to shut him up or Nigel patiently and explicitly telling him what to do. He’s proud of himself.

Still riding the high of that experience, Adam makes himself go into the club. He makes himself shut out the music, not at all like Gabi’s cello, and he walks with his eyes on his shoes.

He was not invited, this time, but the big burly men let him past anyway, and this time, Adam remembers which door to go to.

Nigel looks surprised when he answers the door, cell phone tucked between his chin and his shoulder. He rattles something unintelligible into the speaker and snaps it closed.

“I… You weren’t outside,” Adam tells him, and that turns out to be the extent of his courage. Suddenly, he realizes all the rules he’s broken. He has invited himself into someone’s space, into someone’s _work_ , without being welcomed or even calling ahead. The gaze he’d managed to lock on Nigel’s collar suddenly drops back to the ground, and Adam’s fingers begin to twitch.

“Adam, I’m kind of in the middle of something-”  
“I’m sorry!” Adam doesn’t let him finish, tapping his fingers against his palms. This was stupid. He had Nigel’s number, he could have called. Or, better, texted. He could have gone home, but now here he was. Stupid and embarrassed. “I’ll go, I should go, I-”

“Adam!”

Adam freezes. Nigel has perfected that tone, that stern voice that sinks into Adam’s head so easily. Adam dares to peek up at Nigel’s chin and try to read his face.

Nigel is smiling, which is better than Adam could have hoped for.

“I like that you surprised me,” Nigel tells him, “But I do have something to take care of.”

“Right, I can-”

“I didn’t say you could speak.”

Adam’s jaw snaps shut with an audible click. If anything, Nigel’s smile only seems to grow.

“I have to take care of something,” Nigel says again, “But you can wait for me, can’t you?”

Adam does not speak. Doesn’t do anything, except let his gaze creep a little further up Nigel’s face.

“Yeah,” Nigel decides, stepping aside. “Go stand in front of my desk.”

Adam goes, facing the desk, stock still with his hands at his side. He can’t see Nigel like this, but he can feel the way Nigel looks at him.

“Put your hands on top of your head,” Nigel finally says, when Adam starts to fidget. Adam starts to raise his hands automatically, and then frowns, hesitating.

“Why?”

Nigel doesn’t answer him for a long, long moment. Adam cannot see his face, but he realizes that maybe, just maybe, he is not the only one who doesn’t know what’s happening here. “Because I want you to,” Nigel finally tells him, and Adam raises his hands and settles them both neatly atop his own hair. Behind him, Nigel lets out a slow breath, and the heavy feeling of staring creeps up and down Adam’s spine. Unpleasant, anywhere else, but he finds he likes Nigel’s eyes on him. “Stay there,” Nigel says, “Stay just like that until I come back for you.”

And even though the door clicks shut and Nigel’s footsteps echo down the hall, even though there is no one left in the room to see him, Adam does. Because Nigel wants him to. Because Nigel said to, and never has Adam had anyone who was so easily pleased with him before. Adam wants that feeling, he wants it every day, he wants to keep it close in his chest and let it fill him.

Adam doesn’t know how long Nigel is gone. He has a watch, but checking it would mean moving from how he’d been told to stand, and he doesn’t want to. Nigel wouldn’t know, but Adam would. He stands there, and drifts. He feels tingly, pleasant and floaty. He feels the way he felt when the music was playing. This is easy. All he has to do is stand like this and when Nigel comes back, Nigel will be pleased with him and will probably tell Adam he was good. All Adam has to do is listen, and he gets to feel like this.

Adam barely notices the click of the door when Nigel returns, but he notices the hand that reaches out to cup his chin, tilting his head to meet Nigel’s steady gaze and _oh._

Nigel is pleased with him. Nigel is beyond pleased. Adam can only barely distinguish most emotional responses, but he knows that no one has ever looked at him the way Nigel is looking at him. Nigel smiles with his teeth, and his hand is firm on Adam’s jaw. Adam feels untethered. He is no longer in control of the situation, has never been when he’s with Nigel, and he doesn’t want to be. Nigel looks him up and down, every piece of him, and Adam _wants_.

“Are you interested in me?” The words burst forth before Adam can stop them, years of practice with other people vanishing. Adam wants, and he wants Nigel to want, and both of those things are tumbling out of him faster than he can restrain them.

Nigel stills, stiff in front of him. “What?”

And Adam knows he should stop, remembers how this went with Beth, but he has always been terrible at working his way out of trouble, and so he says it anyway. “Sexually. Are you sexually aroused when I do what you tell me?”

Nigel’s face changes. His smile drops, but he is not frowning, is not doing anything that Adam could hope to identify. “Jesus _fucking_ Christ, Adam.”

Adam immediately starts to back up, dropping his hands from his head. Nigel’s hands seem to come from nowhere, gripping Adam’s wrists in a tight hold that Adam could not have broken, even if he’d been willing to try. They stare at each other, two men frozen in this space, a feedback loop of _something_ that makes Adam tremble.

And then Nigel starts to laugh.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Adam,” He says again, “You just say whatever pops into your pretty little head, don’t you?” Nigel tucks both of Adam’s wrists into one hand, shifts them out of his way, wraps his free hand in Adam’s hair-

-And kisses him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THEY DID THE THING. Honestly, I wasn't sure they were gonna. I kind of thought they were going to continue doing nonsexual kink and dancing around each other until my eyes started to bleed. Thank god for Adam.
> 
> We got to meet Gabi today! I like Gabi. There shall be more of Gabi. Gabi is here because if she wasn't, this story would have no plot and would just be pages and pages of two people accidentally entering an abusive BDSM relationship but with no actual conflict or anything really happening outside kink/smut. And that's only fun for so long. Gabi didn't get to do much this time, but she and Adam will be having many conversations in the future. I think she'll be better for him as a friend than Beth, who was well-intentioned but clearly had no idea how to deal with Adam's quirks. Also at some point Gabi and Nigel will meet, and that will be interesting (Don't worry, nothing's gonna happen between them. It's just gonna be... interesting).
> 
> Do you know how hard it is to write from the perspective of someone who is exceedingly literal and explicitly hates metaphors because it's fucking hard??? I am also exceedingly literal in real life, and I struggle with people not saying what they mean. But I have learned to handle metaphors and subtext in fiction and it is a real struggle to shut off that part of my brain.
> 
> We're going to start really delving in to the D/s aspect of their relationship soon. I originally said D/s undertones, but that is not what's happening here. These are not undertones, these are just.... tones. The only thing even remotely subtle about this is that we aren't going to get pages of kink negotiation, because neither Adam nor Nigel is actually AWARE that they're entering a BDSM relationship, this is just a thing they're doing because Nigel is a controlling son of a bitch and Adam likes to behave. (Although, uh... we're also eventually gonna hit a misbehaving Adam which will also be interesting.)
> 
> A reminder that I'm writing this like I would write BDSM, but BDSM without negotiotions and safe words in real life is just abuse. So A) do not mimic these characters they are bad at being responsible healthy people and B) Mind your own triggers and be cautious!
> 
> I'm done doing my weird chapter preview thing because it just makes me feel trapped when I can't always fit everything in. So all I will promise for next time is more kissing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the porn chapter. This is 5000 words of smut. It was GONNA be the 'porn and also Adam talks to his friends' chapter, but I expected the porn to be a lot quicker than it was. Adam had to be difficult. So instead, just an entire chapter of sex. I'm sorry.
> 
> A minor warning for some creepy possessive Nigel thoughts, but let's be honest, that's what you came here for. Also, Adam has a bit of a panic in bed, and while Nigel stops right away, the way it's worded may be triggering for some people, so please be cautious. Everything in this story is, and always will be, consensual. There may be occasional uncomfortable moments, but I promise I will always warn you when they come.
> 
> Edit to add: forgot to warn for Adam’s negative self thoughts in regards to his autism. It does not reflect my own thoughts on autism, just Adam’s insecurities

Adam isn’t the first boy Nigel has kissed. He has a bit of a reputation for being indiscriminate with lovers, so long as they’re beautiful. It’s part of the reason he’d pushed so hard to build his empire; it was a lot harder for people to give you shit when you could have them shot down in the street.

Adam is not the first boy Nigel has kissed, nor the most seductive. He kisses like it’s a curiosity, like he’s mapping out Nigel for further study.

Not the first, not the most seductive, not the most skilled, and yet Nigel cannot fathom why he had ever kissed those other men, when he only had to wait a few more years to find Adam.

There are a number of flat surfaces in Nigel’s office that he can lay Adam out on, but he chooses the wall instead, just to feel Adam pinned against it, held in place by Nigel’s weight and Nigel’s hands. He drops his grip on Adam’s wrists to tug at the hem of Adam’s shirt instead, pushing and pulling until he can get past layers of sweater and button-down and undershirt, all the way to soft, smooth skin. Adam makes a helpless little noise, a whimper that slows Nigel’s hands until he’s tracing circles on Adam’s stomach, trying to coax that sound out again.

“We can’t have sex here,” Adam says, tilting his head back to break the kiss. He says it calmly, like he’s discussing the weather, like he hasn’t just been kissed within an inch of his life, and Nigel has to hide his chuckle against the exposed line of Adam’s throat.

“We can’t?” He asks, nipping gently at the soft flutter of Adam’s pulse. Adam whimpers again, and shoves at Nigel’s shoulders.

“There’s no bed here,” Adam informs him, sounding dead serious.

And that is, admittedly, true. There _is_ a desk, and what Nigel considers to be a perfectly serviceable couch, but if Adam wants a bed, he can have a fucking bed. He can have silk sheets and rose petals if he wants, and they can work their way up to the desk.

“But if there _was_ a bed,” Nigel says slowly, “We could have sex?”

“Yes,” Adam says, as if it’s that simple, but a little bit of hesitation has crept back into his voice, a little bit of nerves, of wariness. Nigel soothes the wrinkle of his brow with soft kisses, until Adam closes his eyes and just relaxes in his arms.

“You’re a fucking marvel, Adam, that’s what you are.”

Adam’s whole face crinkles up when he’s confused, but Nigel softens him up again with little pecks to his forehead, to his cheek. He feels _giddy_ , a word that has possibly _never_ been used to describe Nigel Lăzărescu, and yet here he is.

It’s not like he hasn’t _thought_ about it, of course. Whatever he and Adam were doing, with commands and praise, there has definitely been a sexual undercurrent, something sharp and hot running through every interaction. But thinking about something and actually expecting to _get it_ are two different things, and up until now, feeling Adam’s erection pressed up against his thigh, Nigel wasn’t entirely sure Adam was a sexual creature at all.

Nigel makes himself break away from Adam, giving him space. He doesn’t entirely trust himself not to try to convince Adam, if they keep touching. Past lovers had occasionally wanted to be goaded into new experiences, but with Adam, Nigel suspects the lines are a lot more firmly drawn. The desk is hard, the couch is squeaky leather, the faintest of bass beats can be heard creeping into the office. There are a thousand different sensory inputs in Nigel’s office, and he’s pretty sure Adam’s keeping track of each and every one of them.

But there will be time later. Hours and hours to lay Adam out and enjoy him. For now, Nigel has things to do.

“You were a good boy for me,” Nigel whispers, just to watch the way Adam shudders, eyes half-closed as he hums, pleased. “You deserve a treat.”

Adam looks vaguely hazy, has ever since Nigel walked back in the room, like he’s floated off somewhere, but now his whole being perks up, a tiny smile gracing his face. He’s so easy, it’s _wonderful._ There are landmines to knowing Adam, things that will set him off quicker than Nigel even knows he’s done them, but if Nigel is careful, if he watches his step, it takes so little to light Adam up.

Nigel leads Adam to his desk, sitting down and pulling Adam into his lap. It’s a little awkward; Adam is nearly as tall as Nigel is, and graceless in his struggle to sit upright. Finally, though, Nigel manages to arrange him properly, tucking Adam’s head under his chin and holding him close, almost like a child. Adam tilts his face into Nigel’s throat and breaths in, deep and slow, while Nigel rubs slow circles into his back.

When Nigel offers up a piece of chocolate, Adam reaches for it with his fingers.

“No,” Nigel says, gently directing Adam’s hands back into his lap, “Open.”

Adam’s face scrunches up and he looks adorably confused, but he opens his mouth and let’s Nigel set the chocolate on his tongue.

“Savor,” Nigel reminds him, and Adam does, throat working with every swallow as he lets the chocolate melt against his tongue. Nigel’s hand is still there, fingertips pressed to Adam’s lips, feeling every shift. When the chocolate is done, Adam sticks his tongue out licking traces of chocolate from Nigel’s fingers in a way that Nigel is sure is meant to be practical, not seductive. And then Adam’s tongue curls against the tip of Nigel’s middle finger, and Adam looks up through his lashes, shy but sure, and Nigel reevaluates everything he knows about Adam’s sexuality.

If Adam wants a bed, he gets a fucking bed, but Nigel might just die before they get there.

\-----  
Adam understands sex – mostly. He understands, from porn, the type of things that people (mostly men) find sexually arousing, even if he doesn’t quite understand it (Nigel’s fingers tasted more like salt and skin than chocolate, but Nigel’s breath had hitched and he’d hardened beneath Adam). He understands, from Beth, that porn cannot be literally applied to sexual intercourse if you want to have a good result. And he understands, from himself and from Nigel, exactly what he likes, what makes Adam squirm and feel hot and achy all over.

Sex is not like emotions. Sex is entirely logical and straightforward: you like something, or you don’t. If you don’t like it, like Beth had not liked being touched along her sides, where she was ticklish, then you don’t do it. If you do like it, like Adam likes being held tightly, pinned and moved and adjusted, then you tell your partner and you do it, again and again and again.

Some people are shy about sex. Adam is not. He doesn’t see the point. If he’s not upfront about what he likes, then he’s not going to get what he likes, and then there doesn’t seem to be any point in having sex at all.

The only thing that makes Adam anxious is initiating contact. He knows about informed consent and making sure your partner is okay with everything you’re doing. But while sex is straightforward, foreplay is not. Flirting is a haze of nonverbal cues and body language, neither of which Adam is any good at. He doesn’t know if someone is aroused by him, if they want to have sex, if they want Adam to touch them. And people, Adam knows, do not always like to be asked outright. It had taken a few missteps before he and Beth had learned to talk to each other, to tell each other when they were interested. And that was fine, great even, but Adam wasn’t having sex with Beth anymore.

Adam has done the reading. He has studied faces. He knows that when he’s aroused, Nigel’s pupils go wide, his hands tense on whatever they’re holding, and he smiles with all his teeth.

Nigel also does all of that when he’s angry, though, so when Nigel comes to Adam’s apartment for dinner, Adam is still not entirely sure Nigel wants him.

Right up until Nigel pulls the dishtowel from Adam’s hand and pins him back against the counter with his tongue in Adam’s mouth. At that point, Adam thinks it’s safe to assume Nigel wants to have sex with him.

Kissing Nigel is… interesting. It’s different than Beth. Sometimes, Beth would take the lead, guide Adam to where they needed to be, but once they’d worked out how they were best together, she’d expected Adam to take charge occasionally.

Nigel doesn’t wait for Adam to take the lead, and he isn’t trying to guide Adam, either. That would require something slower, gentler, and there’s none of that to be found here. Nigel is rough in all the right ways, licking into Adam’s mouth, shoving Adam’s shirt up around his armpits so he can thumb at Adam’s nipples. Adam squeaks, unused to that sort of touch. It only makes Nigel smile against his mouth and gently pinch at them again.

“There’s a bed here, gorgeous,” Nigel points out, lips gliding over Adam’s jaw, down to his throat, until Nigel can latch onto a sensitive spot near Adam’s clavicle with a harsh suck.

“Y-yeah,” Adam says, hopeful, but unwilling to push. Nigel, Adam is learning, has no problem taking what he wants. Adam’s earlier fears vanish. He doesn’t have to try and decipher Nigel’s moods. If Nigel wants to have sex, then they will.

Nigel takes that moment to roll his hips into Adam’s, letting Adam feel every inch of solid heat against the inside of his thighs. Adam is hard too, sensitive and aching. He’s thought about it, in the days since that first kiss, in the shower, hands reaching and grasping. Thought about if he’d changed his mind, if he’d let Nigel have him over the desk instead of spending the rest of the evening chastely cuddled in Nigel’s lap. Adam’s never been known for his imagination, but fantasies are a lot easier than reality. In his fantasies, there is no sensory overload, and Adam can have whatever he likes.

“I want you,” Nigel whispers against the new bruise he’d left on Adam’s skin. “I want you, gorgeous, Adam, tell me I can have you.”

Maybe it’s meant to be a command. It certainly feels that way. It sends the same thrill through Adam as everything Nigel has demanded so far, _listen to me, say ‘yes, Nigel’, hands on your head, tell me I can have you_.

But even as Adam whines at the sudden surge of arousal, Nigel pulls back to look him in the eyes. Adam can’t read his expression, but it’s softer than he’d expected, lines around his eyes as he looks at Adam and _waits_. Not for obedience. For permission. It’s not a command, but a plea.

“Yes, Nigel,” Adam answers anyway, because whenever he does, Nigel’s eyes go just that little bit wider, heated by Adam’s submission the way Adam is by his control, “I want you, too.”

“Fuck,” Nigel hisses, and then they’re kissing again, and Nigel’s hands are steadier, more sure as they yank Adam’s shirt off.

“That’s not where that goes,” Adam protests when the shirt ends up sprawled across the kitchen floor. Nigel isn’t listening, too busy locking his arms under Adam’s thighs and hoisting him up off the ground. For a long moment, Adam is distracted from his fuss, too focused on clinging tight to Nigel’s neck, afraid of falling. Nigel maneuvers them back to Adam’s bedroom just like that, without the slightest bit of hesitation under Adam’s weight.

It’s only when he’s got Adam sprawled out over the bed that Adam can get his focus back. “That’s not where that goes,” Adam says, straightening up. He almost makes it to the edge of the bed before Nigel is on him again, shirtless as well now. Nigel presses him down into the bed, braced over Adam, pinning him down with his body. It’s almost soothing, a pleasant pressure across Adam’s hips and thighs, or it would be if Adam’s mind wasn’t still out in the kitchen with his shirt.

“Nigel!” Adam protests, shoving at Nigel’s shoulders when Nigel tries to kiss him. His hands are starting to flap, twisting twisting twisting in the air as he tries to get his point across. Nigel reaches for his wrists, pins them in place, and Adam knows it’s meant to soothe him, knows it _should_ soothe him, but he’s beyond soothing now. He’s still in the kitchen, still on the floor, still wrong and out of place.

“That’s not where it goes,” Adam insists again as Nigel presses kisses to his shoulder. He wants to let it go, he wants to give in to the teeth that suddenly graze against his skin, but Adam can’t focus when things are wrong. Everything in life has to go exactly where it belongs, or Adam starts to feel like he’s dying. He is not typically hyperbolic, but there’s no other way to describe what a panic attack feels like when it’s clenching in his chest.

“It’s okay, baby,” Nigel whispers against his skin, because he doesn’t _know_ , he doesn’t _get it,_ “I’ll pick it up for you later.” His hands start to tug at Adam’s belt.

“No!” Adam yelps, almost a shriek, “Get off of me! Don’t touch me!” He brings a knee up to shove at Nigel’s chest. Nigel goes immediately, letting go of Adam and toppling back onto the bed, even though Adam knows he didn’t shove that hard. It’s somewhat of a relief, to know that no matter what Nigel might want, no matter how Adam might want to please him, Adam can still have some sort of power here.

“Fucking- What the _fuck_ , Adam?”

“That’s not where it goes,” Adam says for a fourth time, chest heaving with the force of his breaths. His hands are flapping in front of him, he can’t stop them, they move all by themselves. Nigel stares at them and Adam wants to hide, everyone is always staring, “That’s not where it goes, I can’t just leave it there, I have to put it away, laundry goes in the basket. Laundry goes in the _basket_.” His voice is raising higher and higher as he shakes and stumbles from the bed and it wouldn’t be like this if Nigel had just _picked the shirt up_ when Adam told him to-

Nigel comes up behind him and wraps two strong, sturdy arms around Adam, pinning Adam’s hands to his chest and rocking him on his feet in slow, steady motions.

“No no no,” Adam whimpers, squirming in Nigel’s arms. Nigel shushes him, soft little sounds in Adam’s ear, nuzzling into his throat as he rocks.

“Hush, gorgeous, I’ve got you. I’ll get the shirt. I’ll get every stitch of clothing and put it right in the basket, will that help?”

“Uh-huh,” Adam whimpers in agreement. He can’t stim properly like this, and while the pressure feels good, he also feels like there’s too much energy under his skin. His fingers taptaptap against his collarbone, the only little motions he can manage.

“Every stitch,” Nigel promises, “But you need to do something for me. Can you, darling?”

“Uh-huh,” Adam says again.

“Let me take off the rest of your clothes. Then you’ll sit on the bed and count for me.”

“Count what?”

“Anything, Adam. Just the numbers. Just keep counting until I tell you to stop, okay?”

“Okay, Nigel,” Adam breaths. He feels like he’s under his weighted blanket, safe and secure. Nigel isn’t much taller, but he’s _big_ in ways that Adam just… isn’t. Broad shouldered and heavy against Adam’s back.

Nigel strips them both with care, but without any of the sensual touches of before. He’s giving Adam time to breathe, and Adam appreciates it.

Soon they’re naked, and Adam’s almost sturdy enough to want to peek, but Nigel doesn’t give him the chance. He guides Adam back down to the bed and Adam sits, legs folded, eyes closed, hands twisting in his lap. Adam takes a deep breath, and he counts.

He can hear Nigel moving around the apartment, and there’s a part of him that’s anxious about it, but he trusts Nigel. Nigel will fix things, and all Adam has to do is sit here and… and be _good._ Count, because Nigel told him to.

Around fifteen, Adam starts focusing more on the numbers than on the sounds in his apartment, the rush of water from the kitchen sink, the heavy footsteps. He tunes them out. By forty, the numbers have synced up with his breathing. He counts every inhale, every exhale. He feels better. He’s drifting.

Ninety-three comes on an exhale, and when he goes to take the next breath, Nigel’s mouth finds the sensitive place just behind his ear. “Nine-Ah!” comes out on a startled squeak, and Adam loses count completely when Nigel’s chest presses up against his back.

“All better, gorgeous?”

“Is the shirt in the basket?”

Nigel chuckles against Adam’s neck. His hands are wandering again, one caressing Adam’s stomach, just above where Adam wants it, and one grazing over his nipples, back and forth, little pinches and tugs that leave Adam breathless and make him sensitive, until he whines with every new tug.

“The shirt’s in the fucking basket,” Nigel whispers, “All of our clothes are in the basket. Even mine.”

“That’s not always how this works,” Adam tells him, because he has to warn him, even with how fuzzy his brain has gone, focus narrowed to points of sharp pleasure on his chest, “You can’t just tell me to calm down and have that fix everything, not always, my brain doesn’t work that way.”

“We’ll burn that bridge when we come to it,” Nigel says, and Adam tilts his head back glares at him because he hates figures of speech and that one doesn’t even make _sense._ Nigel smiles back and shifts to tease both of Adam’s nipples at once, rolling them between his fingertips until Adam lets out a high moan and closes his eyes again. “As long as it works, Adam, does it matter? I’ll think of something new when I have to.”

“I don’t think-” Nigel leans forward, hands shifting to caress Adam’s sides and his hips. The new closeness means Adam can feel him, hard and hot against Adam’s ass, and Adam is _lost_. “Nigel!”

“Tell me I can have you, Adam,” Nigel says, just like he did in the kitchen, and there is nothing else Adam can do except tilt his head back for a kiss, and say ‘please.’

That little plea seems to rile something in Nigel. He kisses with teeth, clutching Adam closer with a hand across Adam’s throat. It’s gentle, no pressure, but it’s solid in a way that makes Adam arch his back, rolling his hips up into nothing.

Adam’s not quite sure how he ends up flat on his back. He misses a few steps somewhere, misses everything but Nigel’s mouth, tongue and teeth and an intimacy that makes Adam shudder.

Nigel seems even broader this way, on all fours over Adam, strong hips pressed up against the insides of Adam’s thighs. Adam can see everything now, and he…

He’s a little nervous, if he’s being honest.

Adam knows how men have sex. His pornographic DVDs have always been an eclectic collection. He’s been fastidious in the shower, ever since Nigel, making sure he’s clean and tidy, just in case. He’s even fingered himself before, both before and after Nigel, pressing into himself until he feels good, until there are sparks shooting up his spine and his wrist aches from the angle. Adam is not opposed to anything that will feel pleasant.

And yet he looks at Nigel, at his… at his _cock_ (And Adam knows the words, but it’s so very different to think them himself, it sends a thrill through him he wasn’t expecting), long and thick, and Adam wants, he does, but…

He tenses at the first touch of Nigel’s fingers to his entrance, slick with something Nigel had set out on the bedside table. Nigel presses in in _in,_ and Adam is scared and aroused and everything, everything all at once, and all he can do is tilt his head back and say ‘please.’

Adam doesn’t know how Nigel knows what he needs, when _Adam_ doesn’t even know what he needs, but he tucks his face into Adam’s throat and presses his body down until Adam is pinned, one hand trapping Adam’s wrists between their chests and the other pushing, pushing, opening Adam up in steady, firm strokes. It works, because of course it does, somehow all of Nigel works for all of Adam. Nigel’s weight is holding him down and his fingers are opening him up, and all Adam has to do is let him. And Adam wants so badly to let him.

“Please,” Adam begs again, and this time he knows what he needs. He nuzzles into Nigel’s hair until Nigel lifts up and kisses him, soft and sweet, licking into Adam, opening him up in every way.

Adam can’t move, can’t sit up or pull away, can’t do anything but welcome Nigel into his body. He can squirm, a little bit, and when he does, Nigel’s hands tense and his hips roll down against the bed, and Adam likes that so he does it again. He shifts his body and tugs at his wrists, making Nigel hold him down, making Nigel put that beautiful pressure on him. There are three fingers inside him now, and a fourth demanding entrance. Adam rolls his hips and moans into Nigel’s mouth when they graze his prostate.

“Again,” Adam demands, and Nigel chuckles against his mouth and curves his fingers inside of him, pressing over and over again in short little bursts until Adam sobs with the pleasure of it all.

“I want inside of you, darling,” Nigel says, releasing Adam’s wrist and pulling back to stare at his face, “Will you let me?”

“I’d let you do anything,” Adam says, and almost means it.

“No you wouldn’t,” Nigel says with a smile, pulling his fingers away and lining himself up. And he’s right, because as he does, Adam tenses up and shakes his head.

“Condom.”

Nigel frowns, but doesn’t push forward. “I can’t get you pregnant, darling.”

“There are other reasons to-”

Nigel interrupts him, which is one habit Adam would like to break him of. “I’m clean. You can trust me.”

And the crazy thing is, Adam does. He trusts a man with scars on his skin and nicotine stains on his fingers. He trusts a man who holds him in place and maneuvers Adam however he likes. He trusts _Nigel_ , with everything he is.

But sex is messy. It had been hard enough, getting used to Beth, to the way women are slick and soft. It wasn’t that Adam didn’t like it, or thought she was gross. It was just… sensory input. The sticky dampness of it all, when they were both sated. Even when Adam masturbates, he does it in the shower, or wears a condom to contain everything. And he wants to give Nigel what he wants, but there are some things Adam just can’t do. Some places Adam is still broken.

“I’m not going to have sex with you without a condom, Nigel.” Adam tries to imitate Nigel and how sure and steady he sounds when he commands Adam. He’s not entirely sure it works, because Nigel ducks his head against Adam’s shoulder and starts to laugh.

“Alright, gorgeous. However you want it.”

“In the drawer,” Adam tells him, and there’s the frown again.

“You do this often?”

“I wanted to have sex with you.” Adam has been told before that he is too blunt, but Nigel, Nigel smiles like Adam has said something brilliant.

And, more importantly, he puts the condom on.

Nigel doesn’t pin him this time. He leans back instead, Adam’s hips propped up on his thighs, and watches Adam’s face as he presses in.

Nigel is bigger than his fingers, bigger than Adam’s fingers, firm and unyielding as he pushes in in _in_. Adam whimpers, fingers clutching the sheets as he tries to adjust. It’s never been like this. There’s never been anyone inside Adam like this, and for a moment, he can’t relax.

Then Nigel moves. His mouth finds Adam’s throat, his fingers rub gentle circles over Adam’s hyper-sensitized nipples, and Adam moans. Nigel pulls back, until Adam whimpers at the emptiness, and then pushes back in, just as slow and steady. It’s not quite pleasure, yet, not quite the sparks of Nigel’s fingers, but it feels good, _right_. Adam’s body relaxes with each new wave of sensation, until Nigel’s teeth graze over the hickey he’s made and Adam finally goes limp.

He can feel Nigel smiling against his throat as he shifts his hips, fucking just a little bit faster into Adam, a little bit harder. Adam likes it, definitely, but he doesn’t _quite_ understand all the fuss, until Nigel gets a hand up under Adam’s knee and presses, bending Adam’s leg up to his chest. The angle changes; the next thrust hits Adam’s prostate and oh, Adam gets it _now._

“Nigel-” Adam’s voice cracks and breaks, almost like he’s crying, and just as out of his control. Nigel rocks forward again and this time, stays put, circling his hips in tight little motions that grind up against all the right spots. Adam writhes underneath him, clutching Nigel’s shoulders for leverage, rocking into the motion as much as he can with his hips up off the bed like this.

Nigel’s mouth finds his again, seals Adam’s moans between them as they move together. Adam closes his eyes and lets the pleasure roll over him, clinging to Nigel every time Nigel moves to pull back again.

A callused hand wraps around Adam’s cock, and the next thrust is a stuttered, desperate motion as Nigel groans against him, and that’s all it takes. Adam’s orgasm is overwhelming, sparking up his spine and pulsing through him in waves, drawn out with every rough, eager thrust as Nigel reaches his end inside him.

Nigel collapses over him, and for a moment it’s too much, too much pressure, too much contact. And then Nigel rolls onto his side, leaving Adam empty and aching, and that moment ends and Adam wants him _back_.

Nigel wraps Adam up in his arms, rolls him until they’re chest to chest, and tucks his chin against Adam’s hair, breathing him in even though Adam is sweat-damp and sticky.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, Adam. Gorgeous and perfect, you know that?”  
“I’m not,” Adam protests, but he can’t fight the smile he presses into Nigel’s chest. They stay like that for a minute, a minute in which Adam thinks he can do this, can just be normal and lay here in post-coital bliss. But he’s slick with lube and drying semen, and he doesn’t understand how _anybody_ rests like this.

“Nigel? I need a shower.”

“Right now, baby?”

“Right now.”

\-----  
As much as Nigel would love to fall asleep still sticky and sated, or better yet, slip out for a cigarette, he’s starting to learn the ins and outs of Adam. There are things his boy needs to feel alright, and Nigel will give him every last one.

Except space. Not right now. In the shower, he holds Adam close, skips the washcloth to rub him down with his hands. Nigel isn’t getting any younger, but he thinks he could manage another round, if he didn’t think Adam would drag them right back into the fucking shower. A thought for another time, then.

Instead, he lingers over Adam’s curls, massages shampoo through his hair with gentle fingers, picking apart tangles as he goes. Adam is nearly boneless under his hands, looking for all the world as though no one’s ever touched him but Nigel. Nigel knows it’s not true, but it still sets off a sense of pleased pride within him.

“I’m going to stay the night,” Nigel says. Doesn’t ask, because Adam needs him to be sure right now. He still looks a little hazy and lost from their lovemaking, and Nigel suspects he’ll end up sleeping half on top of Adam, just to weigh him down. Adam looks up at him with big, wide blue eyes, and nods.

“I have work in the morning.”

“I’ll make sure you’re up early enough.”

Adam hums thoughtfully and closes his eyes again as Nigel pulls him from the shower and begins to towel him off. “Nigel?” He asks in a soft voice that has already sunk it’s hooks into Nigel’s skin.

“Yeah?”

“Are we together?”

“What’s that, baby?”

“Together. Dating. Boyfriends.” Adam peers up at him, half-hidden by the soft towel. “I think I could be okay if we weren’t, maybe. It may take some time to adjust, I think I might be a little hurt at first. But if you don’t want the commitment, if you just want sexual intimacy, I will try to be understanding.”

The thought of it, of _not_ claiming Adam in that way, of Adam feeling free to share his ‘sexual intimacy’ with someone else, makes Nigel want to rage. It makes him want to drag Adam back to bed, flip him over onto his stomach and fuck him again, until Adam is crying and squirming with sensitivity and pleasure, until Adam can’t think of anything but Nigel and how good Nigel makes him feel, until he wouldn’t ever _dare_ want anyone else.

He doesn’t, because Adam is a beautiful, fragile thing and Nigel thinks it would scare him, this early on, but the urge lingers just beneath the surface.

“Of course we’re fucking together, baby. You think I spend the night with just anyone?”

“I don’t know where you spend the night,” Adam points out, because he’s refreshingly, irritatingly precise.

“Well, we’ll have to change that, won’t we?”

“Okay, Nigel.” Adam smiles up at him, trusting and breathtakingly beautiful. Nigel has no idea how he managed to get this lucky, but he’ll fight to keep it with every last breath in his body.

In the morning, Adam complains that he’s sore, but Nigel is learning when Adam wants him to push and when he doesn’t. It takes a little coaxing, whispered words of reassurance and praise, but Adam opens up for him again. He lets Nigel press in between his thighs, and when he whimpers, it’s not pained but pleased. Adam makes breathy little sounds, little ‘ah-ahs’ of pleasure that send Nigel toppling over the edge with almost no effort. Nigel brings Adam with him, strokes him in long, steady pulls until Adam bares his throat and comes all over himself.

Then, they have to shower again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all I think this may be the most explicit thing I've ever written and I have no fucking clue if it's any good. I certainly hope so, since I've already promised more of it.
> 
> A thing I should have mentioned way back in Rulebreaker but keep forgetting: In the movie, Adam has an Aspergers diagnosis. However, Adam came out in 2009, and that diagnosis No longer exists, having been absorbed into Autism spectrum disorder. I had to choose between movie accuracy and real life accuracy and in the end I chose to go with the current diagnosis, so Adam and those around him all refer to him as autistic.


	5. Chapter 5

“Adam!”

“Hello, Beth.”

Beth’s grinning face fills the laptop screen, bright and eager. She’s always happy to see him, almost too happy to see him. Sometimes she’s too much, too loud, too sharp. The artificial quality of a Skype call warps her voice to something mechanical and shrill. Beth is not shrill, but computers go a long way towards adjusting that. She statics across the screen in sharp, jagged motions, but she’s _there_. Adam has missed her.

“So tell me about it,” Beth insists, “I’ve set aside plenty of time. You have thirty minutes to tell me all about your job, no interruptions, just fresh, undiluted Adam talk. And then we can have a real conversation.”

Adam understands what she means, but he still frowns. For him, talking about things that excite him _is_ a ‘real’ conversation. He likes listening to his friends talk about things that excite them, too. Active listening is more difficult than talking, and he needs a lot of practice if he’s going to get good at it.

“Adam,” Beth says softly, when the silence has stretched on to an awkward point. “Tell me about your job. I wanna know. Really.”

And so he does. He tells her about the project he’s working on, the chip he’s been engineering. He talks and talks and talks about the mathematics and the coding. And, when Beth pushes gently, he talks about his coworkers.

“Nigel says they’re just...” Nigel had said ‘cunts,’ but Beth would not like that, Adam knows. “Jerks,” He substitutes.

“Does Nigel work with you?”

“No, so I don’t know how he would know whether or not my coworkers are jerks, but-”

“Where’d you meet him, then? Have you been going out?” Beth grins, her voice pitching up like excitement. Adam knows she wants him to get out more, push his comfort zones.

“I met him outside my apartment,” He says, impatient to get back to his story, “But Gabi says maybe they just need time to adjust-”

“Wait wait wait-” Beth loses her focus, frowning at the screen, “Wait, who’s Gabi?”

“Gabi is a musician,” Adam informs her, “She plays the cello outside a restaurant by the lab. I eat lunch there every day now, but just my lunch, I still don’t like strange food. I think she’s my friend? I haven’t asked.” He’d wanted to, but Gabi seemed to enjoy talking to him, and he was reluctant to shatter that peace.

“Just a friend?” Beth asks. Adam can’t place the strange tone in her voice, or explain the sudden downward tilt to her mouth. “Not a girlfriend?”

“No,” Adam says, frowning. Nigel would be furious, not that Adam would dare. “I don’t like Gabi that way.”

Beth’s shoulders relax and she smiles again. “Okay. Well, I’m glad you’ve made a friend, Adam. Two friends! That’s. That’s really great. I know how hard it is for you to talk to people.”

“I’m getting better,” He protests. Beth grins, wide and bright and beautiful.

“Yeah. You really are.”

\-----

They sit with cigarettes and booze in Darko’s office. Nigel’s itching for a hit of something stronger, but he’s going straight to Adam from the club, and he won’t fuck his boy with a high running through his veins. Adam needs too much concentration, too much care. Nigel thinks it would scare him.

Darko sips at his whiskey and stares, no attempt to hide his curiosity. “So. Boys again.”

“Boys again,” Nigel confirms. “On and off, boys and girls, you know I’ve never been picky.”

Darko sighs and takes a slow drag of his cigarette. “I don’t care that you’re a fag, Nigel. You know I don’t. But it might be easier if you would just pick one instead of bouncing back and forth like this. Indecision makes you look weak.”

“It’s not indecision,” Nigel snapped, “I know what I like. I just happen to like a variety of flavors. We can’t all just eat vanilla pussy the rest of our lives.”

“Like you wouldn’t touch my wife if I’d let you.”

“Maybe if she hadn’t spent so much time riding your skinny little dick. You’re not my type, Darko, not even secondhand.”

They’re brutal with each other, always have been, but they’re both grinning.

“I’m not indecisive,” Nigel says again, a little more subdued, “In fact, I’m feeling more decided than I have in a long fucking time.

“I know that,” Darko assures him, “So do some of the boys. They whisper back to me, you know, when you make moves without asking me first. Did you really buy out the building?”

Nigel shrugs. “It needed a new owner after the last guy up and split. I gave him a week to fix the locks. More than he deserved.”

“I assume they’re fixed, now?”

“Solid as fucking steel.”

Darko shrugs his shoulders and pours another round. “Like I said. I know you. But others, they don’t know so well. They only know the rumors. You hop from cunt to ass like changing your socks, you let yourself be seen on the streets with some pretty little wide-eyed American.”

“He’s hardly little,” Nigel insists, and it’s as much a defense of Adam’s height as it is an innuendo. He smirks at Darko just to see him glare.

“He’s tiny,” Darko insists, “Not in size, but in being. Fragile.”

“Adam’s not fragile,” Nigel says, but he’s not entirely sure that’s true. Doesn’t know Adam well enough, yet, to say for sure. Oh, he’s starting to learn. He can trace the shape of Adam’s triggers and head them off as best as he can. But he doesn’t yet know what it would take to crack or break him. He’s confident he can put Adam back together, should it happen, but he has no way to predict it. Not yet.

“Adam,” Darko says slowly, drawing out the syllables, “is a weird little shit, isn’t he?”

He kind of is, but Nigel likes that about Adam, and he’s certainly not about to let anyone else say it. He growls, showing his teeth. He once bit out a man’s throat for his backtalk, and he knows Darko remembers in vivid detail.

“He’s glorious,” Nigel bites out, “He’s beautiful and brilliant. The other day he talked to me for over two hours about Higgs-Boson particles. What you know about Higgs-Boson particles wouldn’t fit on the particle itself.”

Darko raises an eyebrow. “Ah, yes. Tell me, Nigel, what exactly is a Higgs-Boson particle?”

Nigel, who had spent that entire two hours pressing tiny little kisses to Adam’s throat and watching the way his lips moved, does not have an answer. Darko’s smirk says all it needs to. “Shut the fuck up,” Nigel hisses, flushing.

“You are lost, my friend. Completely lost.”

“I’ve never felt less lost in my life.”

Dark smiles at him over his glass, a hint of sorrow in his eyes. “I know. Which is why I am warning you to be careful.”

\-----

“You’ll get used to the money thing soon enough, kiddo.”

“I’m not a child,” Adam protests. Everyone always calls him that. It makes him feel small and inept.

“You’ll always be a kiddo to me,” Harlan tells him, smiling on the screen.

“I’m almost thirty,” Adam reminds him, but Harlan just keeps smiling, big and wide and familiar and safe.

“Adam, I’ve known you since you were a tiny, screaming thing in your mama’s arms. And I’ll always remember that no matter how old and gray you get.”

“I’m not gray!” Adam brings a self-conscious hand up to his hair and tugs at it, suddenly wondering if he’s supposed to be checking in the mornings.

“Figure of speech, Adam. Just another figure of speech.”

“Oh.” People are weird. Adam has always suspected this, no matter how much kids at school had called him ‘freak’ and ‘weirdo’ and ‘Adam Ass-Burgers,’ which was particularly lacking in creativity. People say what they don’t mean and pretend things they don’t believe, and yet somehow _Adam_ is supposed to be the odd one. Adam, who says exactly what he means and translates the world as it should be. People are weird.

“Nigel calls me ‘kid’ too,” Adam muses. And princess, and angel, and baby, none of which apply to Adam in any way. Mostly when he’s teasing, but ‘baby’ in particular has started slipping in and out of Nigel’s speech. Adam isn’t sure yet if he likes it.

“Who’s Nigel? He work with you?”

“No, Nigel owns a strip club.”

Harlan’s grin twists a little, into one of the weird smiles people make when they talk about sex, because that’s another thing that people should be logical about and yet aren’t. “That’s a pretty good friend to have, Adam.”

Adam shrugs. He’s not really aware of Nigel’s relative merits as a friend, they were only friends very briefly before the kissing started. “I guess so.”

“Although I guess you’re not really the strip club type, are you?”

“I went inside a few times. It was very loud. I didn’t like it. I looked at the floor until I could leave.”

Harlan sighs. “Yeah, that sounds more like you. But at least you’ve made a friend, right? You and this Nigel hang out a lot?”

“Yes. He was here last night for dinner and sex.

Harlan’s face turns a weird color, and he chokes a bit even though he wasn’t eating anything. “You… Jesus, Adam, you can’t just spring things on an old man like that.”

“You’re not that old, Harlan.”

“You know what I mean, Adam, you’re bad at metaphors but you’re a smart kid. You gotta ease people into stuff, not just start talking about sex.”

“Oh.” This doesn’t sit right with Adam. They’d been talking about the strip club, after all, and the strip club related to both sex and Nigel, both of which had been contained in Adam’s contribution to the conversation. It seems like a logical topic, no matter what Harlan says about it, but Adam tries to listen to NT’s advice when they correct his conversational skills. Even if they aren’t making any sense. “Nigel is my boyfriend,” Adam says, pulling back to a more vague version of the previous topic.

“Yeah, I think I got that, kiddo. I didn’t even know you were still into guys. Haven’t heard you say anything about that since college.”

“You and Dad made me join clubs. You asked about them. I saw sexually appealing men on a more regular basis.”

Harlan’s face is still flushed, but he nods. “Right, okay. I guess that makes sense. Woulda been nice to have some warning, though. Next time you meet a guy, I wanna know ahead of time. Maybe meet him? Through the computer?”

Adam runs this over in his head, thinking it through and applying it to what he knows of people. “Do you mean all men, or just the ones I find arousing?”

“Just the potential boyfriends, Adam, not every guy you bump into on the street.”

“Nigel would be upset if I brought sexually appealing men home.”

Harlan laughs. The tension breaks and Adam tries a small smile.

“Yeah, okay, sounds fair. But I want to meet this Nigel, got that? Sooner, rather than later.

“Okay, Harlan.”

\-----

They don’t get much time alone. Adam will let Nigel invade his life on a work night, but he doesn’t _like_ it. He’s tense if Nigel stays too late, running the risk of pushing Adam’s bedtime off. Nigel knows Adam was five minutes late for work, that first time Nigel stayed over and woke to fuck him slow and sweet into the sheets. He knows Adam had spent the entire rest of the day off-kilter and wired, awkward even through the scattered text messages they shared. Nigel’s promised it won’t happen again, that he won’t distract Adam for his morning routines, but Adam is once-bitten and twice-shy in all areas, cautious and wary. Nigel likes to push just to see Adam give in, but he tries to press one boundary at a time, rather than all of them at once. He’d rather have Adam in his office, chaste but relaxed, than tense underneath him.

He’s got plans for the next weekend he can take off, though. Marathon sex plans, Adam sweet and pliant beneath him, breathless with pleasure. He wonders if he can get Adam to beg, or if Adam’s obedience stops short of that, if Adam will demand pleasure rather than plead for it. He wonders if he can get Adam to go either way, depending on what Nigel wants from him.

Nigel wonders a lot of things about Adam, honestly, but they’re all long-term goals. He’s not getting inside Adam tonight, is not even ready to start pushing the idea of the office, even if Adam would look gorgeous, pale skin against the dark leather of the couch. Tonight is about Adam, because Adam made it all the way through the club and back into the office without devolving into shakes for the very first time. He’s already praised him, settling him onto the edge of Nigel’s desk so that Nigel can tower over him properly, nuzzle into his hair and feed him pieces of chocolate by hand. Adam always looks so adorably confused when Nigel presses chocolate to his lips, like he can’t quite figure out what Nigel gets out of it, but isn’t willing to talk with his mouth full.

Adam won’t sleep with him in the office, but he’ll let Nigel press kisses to his throat, and even dig his teeth in a little, gentle pressure that gets him squirming. Nigel’s just about coaxed Adam into allowing a dark little bruise when someone knocks on the door. Adam flinches at Nigel’s growl, but Nigel hushes him with another piece of chocolate. He normally only gives Adam a piece or two, but Adam can have the whole fucking bar if he keeps licking his lips like that. “Shh, baby, I’ll take care of it.”

“You’re needed on the floor, boss!”

It’s one of the girls, and Nigel can never say no to the girls, they all know it. He’s worked too hard to make sure every working girl in Bucharest knows, if you have to be a whore, you want to be one of Nigel’s.

He groans anyway, because he’d specifically dumped his paperwork off on Darko just to make sure he had time for Adam. “I gotta go, baby. You need a focus?” Adam’s already starting to look a little glazed over, just from soft praise and Nigel’s lips against his throat, and he nods hesitantly. Nigel folds him up with careful motions, until he’s cross-legged in the center of the desk, palms flat against his knees. He digs the clay out of his drawer and sets it down next to Adam.

“If you need it, it’s there,” He says, pressing a kiss to Adam’s forehead, “No hitting, okay? No tapping if you can help it. You can stretch if you need to, but otherwise I want you in that position, eyes closed, okay?”

Adam blinks up at him, still alert enough for that hint of confusion that always comes when he’s been ordered, just before he sinks so beautifully under the command. “Should I count?”

“Sure, Adam. Count for me.”

Adam frowns, thoughtful. “What if I get bored?”

Nigel laughs. “Gorgeous, if I’m gone _that_ long, you do whatever you like.”

“I don’t want to do whatever I like,” Adam says, stubborn and honest as always, “I want to do what you tell me.” There’s a pause, a breath, where they both realize exactly what he’s just said. Adam is not prone to embarrassment over his own bluntness, doesn’t see a reason for it, but there’s a faint flush across his face anyway, the red heat of shyness and a hint of arousal.

Nigel kisses him. He doesn’t have a choice, not with Adam looking up at him like that. He licks his way into Adam’s mouth, and when Adam goes to cup his cheek, he presses his wrist back down against his thigh with a firm, almost bruising grip. Adam whimpers. It’s the same sort of sound he made when Nigel was pressing him face-down into his own sheets, and Nigel can barely tear himself away when the knocking starts up again.

“Boss!”

“Fucking...” Adam doesn’t like it when Nigel swears so close to him, at least not out of anger, so Nigel switches to Romanian. _“Fucking Christ, I’ll be right there!”_ To Adam, he gives another kiss, this one sweet and gentle. “You do what I tell you to, then, and close your eyes and wait for me, just like this.”

“Yes, Nigel.” Soft as a breathe, Adam’s eyes are already closed, obedient and eager.

It’s Elena at the door, peering around him, trying to get a glimpse. Nigel puts himself between her and Adam, sealing Adam into his office with a twist of the key. Adam could get out, if he wanted to, but no one else can get in, and Nigel knows damn well that Adam won’t go anywhere else in the club without him.

Elena pouts at being denied the view, and Nigel ruffles her hair like she’s a kid. He likes Elena, probably likes her best of all his girls. She’s tiny, at least next to him, with big tits and a bigger mouth. Nigel’s always liked a girl who sasses back. He fucked her once, in the back of someone else’s car, cherry red lipstick all over his neck, and she’d never expected it to be a big deal or even have an encore.

But he was hers ever since. Not in the romantic sense, but in the sense that Elena lays claim to everything she touches. The girls are all hers too, even though she’s one of the newer strippers in the joint. She protects everyone with claws and fangs, her little family. Nigel thinks, when she gets tired of letting drunk assholes try to shove money into her cunt, he’s gonna give her a gun and teach her the real business.

But for now, Elena likes being on the floor, looking out for everyone. It’s what she’s doing banging on Nigel’s door during his personal time, after all. Another coked out motherfucker trying to lay his hands on Nigel’s girls, and dumb enough to do it in front of Elena’s watchful eyes. She relays the information as fast as she can, and then leans around, as if she thinks she’ll see right through the fucking door.

“Was that your boy?”

“And the rumors keep flying,” Nigel complains, lighting up a cigarette now that he’s out from Adam’s watchful gaze. He’ll need a mint before he goes back, but right now he needs nicotine.

Elena snorts. “They’re only rumors if they aren’t true. You’re keeping him, right? That’s what Darko says.”

“Since when do you listen to anything Darko says?”

“Since he’s telling of Gheorghe on your behalf.”

Nigel’s jaw clenches. He nearly snaps the filter off the cigarette. “Gheorghe running his mouth again.”

“Don’t worry,” Elena says, darkness in her eyes, “I handled it afterwards.”

Nigel pauses. He knows that look, that sharp defensiveness. Knows that, as much as he may be one of Elena’s, it’s not him she’s looking out for. And not him Gheorghe was likely to be shit-talking, not where Darko might hear, anyway.

“Are you trying to claim another kitten, Mama?” The younger girls started calling her that first, but now they all do. Sometimes even Darko goes around backstage yelling for Mama to get her ass out front, not that Elena ever does anything more than exactly what she means to.

“If he’s going to stick around, he’ll need more than you watching him. I hear he’s a bit of a lamb.”

That he is, and Nigel won’t argue with more eyes he trusts on Adam.

“Is he?” Elena asks, when Nigel doesn’t respond right away, “Sticking around?”

“Yeah,” Nigel mumbles, “Yeah, I’m keeping him. As long as I can.” _Maybe forever_ , he thinks, even though really, they barely know each other. This thing between them is still so fresh, and yet, Nigel wants to consume it, carry it around inside him for eternity.

“Good,” Elena says, nodding once, prim and sharp, as if it was her fucking idea. “You’re better with him. Less grumpy.” She grins with a ferocity that tends to make even Nigel a bit uneasy. “You just leave the Gheorghes of the world to me.”

When Nigel makes it back to the office Adam is still in position. The clay’s been moved, so Nigel knows he stretched, but he’s just as Nigel left him, not held with chains or ropes, but just with his own desire to be good for Nigel.

Nigel’s never wanted anyone so badly.

\-----

Adam feels loose limbed the next day, relaxed and at ease. He doesn’t know why. It just feels good, when Nigel presses compliments and praise into his hair, his face. The chocolate helps, too. He’s tempted to ask Nigel for the brand, but he likes that there is a designated Nigel-chocolate. He likes the routine, knowing what to expect. If Adam starts buying it for himself, Nigel might be tempted to switch to another treat, and Adam hates change.

He likes Nigel, though. Maybe too much. He finds himself masturbating to just the soft kisses he gets in Nigel’s office, to thoughts of sitting on a desk, waiting for Nigel to come back to him. Things that, logically, should have nothing to do with sexual arousal, and yet somehow do. He’s started feeling uncomfortably warm when he has to count things, now, which is distracting and not as pleasant as the increased rate of masturbation.

He tells Gabi this over lunch, minus the part about masturbation.

“He’s distracting,” Adam complains between bites of his sandwich, “I see him every day, but sometimes he only has a few minutes. And then I have to go back to my life by myself, and all I can think about is how he smells like smoke and it’s not as unpleasant as I thought it would be. It should be unpleasant. Cigarettes are unpleasant.”

Gabi is smiling at him over her tea. Adam bought it for her, because it is polite, and because she had very gently suggested that maybe Adam should stop tipping her with such large bills if they were going to spend so much time together. When Adam frowns, brow creasing and hands tapping away at the tabletop, she giggles.

“It’s not funny,” He tells her.

“It is a _little_ funny.”

“It’s not,” Adam insists, “I never had this problem before. Work is at work and home is at home, and people are contained where I need them to be.”

“And yet, here you are, talking to me about your boyfriend and torturing that poor sandwich.”

“Sandwiches can’t feel pain,” Adam tells her, but he loosens his grip on his lunch. There are stiff fingerprint dents all through the bread. Gabi grins and one of her eyebrows quirk up. This is the face she wears when she is about to make an observation. So far, all of her observations have been startlingly accurate. People who can read other people so easily are always a little bit intimidating to Adam.

“You must like this Nigel more than all of those other people,” she says. “You are connected. Perhaps he is your soulmate.”

“There’s no such thing.” Adam does not believe in instant connections and love at first sight, although he is not surprised that Gabi does. She ascribes feelings and romance to music, not just interpretation, but assigning characteristics to the notes and the sounds themselves.. To apply them to people instead is the next logical step.

“Maybe so,” Gabi concedes, “But you are attached to him. That can only be a good thing, Adam. You worry too much.”

Adam thinks it over, hums around a mouthful of sandwich. He hums a lot now, little half-remembered tunes from lunch with Gabi. He likes his stims, twitches and taps, but humming has started to soothe him so easily, a soft, buzzing familiarity. Maybe Gabi is right about the emotion behind sound, that music is more than just mathematical interpretation of a feeling, but carries feeling of its own. Maybe Gabi is right about a lot of things.

“What if I am attached to him?” Adam asks. “Attachments have not worked out well for me.”

“You say he comes to see you. That he has brought you into his work, he has come to your home and eaten your mac and cheese. I think he is just as attached to you, Adam.” Gabi reaches out, places a gentle hand over Adam’s. Nigel’s hands are calloused and rough, but Gabi’s are soft, gentle. Adam likes them both differently.

“Okay,” He says, “I can be attached.

\-----

They’re in bed, Nigel spread out over Adam. Still in their clothes, way too many clothes, but Nigel has plans to fix that. Adam has to be eased into it with soft little kisses, bumps of their noses together.

“Gabi said I was attached to you,” Adam whispers, despite Nigel’s best attempts to distract him, “She says it’s a good thing.”

“Who the fuck is Gabi?”

“Gabi’s my friend. I eat lunch with her.”

“She’s not prettier than me, I hope.” Nigel says with a playful grin.

“Yes,” Adam says, blunt and honest. Nigel knows better than to be offended, but he winces anyway.

“Ouch, baby, you gotta warn a guy before you gut him like that.”

Adam just stares at him, confused, until Nigel clarifies.

“That’s one of those things you don’t say, Adam. Might hurt somebody’s feelings.”

Adam’s frown deepens. “You are a very handsome man, Nigel,” He finally says, “But you’re not ‘pretty.’ Pretty denotes a very specific type of attractiveness, particularly when used to describe men. I might be considered ‘pretty’-”

“Fucking gorgeous,” Nigel corrects, and Adam smiles as he continues.

“-But you have rougher characteristics. You are not ‘pretty’, although I find you very sexually attractive.” Adam pauses, thinking something over, before adding, “Gabi is a very pretty woman, but I don’t desire her sexually. Just you.”

“Even though I tell you what to do?” Nigel asks, before he can stop himself. Adam looks up at him, with that little furrow his brow gets when he’s having trouble figuring something out.

“You like to tell me what to do.”

Nigel sighs and rolls onto his side. Adam lets out a disgruntled little squeak that is almost enough to bring Nigel back to him. Almost.

“Some people might not have such nice things to say if they knew,” Nigel suggests, choosing his words with more care than he typically saves for conversations. It does nothing to sooth the tension in Adam’s face.

“Knew about what?”

“Knew… Knew… Shit, Adam, you’re not supposed to boss your lovers around. You’re an adult, you don’t need me running your life.”

Adam hums thoughtfully, considering. “Nigel,” He finally says, “Do I do things I don’t want to do?”

Nigel chokes out a laugh and shakes his head. “No, Darling, I’d say you’re pretty set in your ways.”

“Then, do you think I would listen to you if I didn’t want to?”

The thought had occurred to him, honestly. That maybe Adam was just indulging him, that Adam might listen to Nigel because he didn’t have enough experience to tell him not to. Now, with Adam staring intently at the side of Nigel’s face, Nigel regrets those thoughts. Adam is not a child. A bit naive, at times, and young for his age, but not a child. He knows who he is and what he likes. And what he likes, unbelievable as it may be, is Nigel.

Nigel reaches out for Adam’s waist and pulls him close, so that their legs tangle together. “I think you’d have no trouble telling me where to go, if you wanted to.”

“I don’t want you to go anywhere,” Adam whispers, beautifully fierce in his intensity. Nigel presses a kiss to his forehead.

“Then I’ll be right here.”

“Good.” Adam steals a better kiss, a proper one, soft little presses of his lips against Nigel’s. For a moment, Nigel thinks they’ve gotten the mood back, but then Adam pulls back again.

“What are we doing, Nigel?”

“What do you mean?”

“What are we doing, the two of us?”

“Didn’t we already have this conversation?”

“You said we were dating,” Adam says with a nod, “But I’ve dated before. I don’t want you to go anywhere.”

“I already said I wouldn’t.”

“You don’t know that. Nobody knows that. But I want… I want this to be something I get to keep.” Adam looks away from him, flushed, stammering. “I want… I like what we do. I know it’s not normal. I’m not normal.”

“Nothing fucking wrong with you, sweetheart.”

“I know there isn’t!” Adam says, voice tipping into a high-pitched, anxious cry. Nigel shushes him with a hand in his hair, tightening gently until Adam’s eyes flutter closed at the pressure.

“That,” Adam says, voice raspy, “That’s what I want to keep. That’s what I want, with you.”

Nigel looks at the way Adam’s face has smoothed out, at the dark curls growing just a bit too long over his fingers. Then he smiles, a slow, eager grin.

“Gorgeous, are you saying I’m not bossing you around _enough_?”

“You’re fine,” Adam says, but he’s not much of a liar, and his face is starting to flush. Nigel may be fine, yes, but Adam wants more than fine. Nigel wants to give it to him.

“Okay, baby,” Nigel whispers, tilting Adam’s head back to suck a bruise into the line of his neck, “I’ll give you anything you need.”

That night together is quiet, easy, peaceful. But Nigel has a list of plans, and it’s growing longer. They’ll find their way together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a transition chapter, to define where Nigel and Adam stand before they really start to cement the sort of relationship they want. Which... Remember way back in 'Rulebreaker' where it was mentioned that the first real 'rule' came about because Adam got mugged? Yeah, that's happening next chapter. I actually originally intended it to happen THIS chapter, but I felt like it was too much too soon after they got together.
> 
> Original concept for this chapter was 'five conversations Adam and Nigel had with other people about their relationship, and one they had together.' I meant to get through the entire chapter with them only interacting in the end. The boys refused to be separated that long, because they are codependent assholes. 
> 
> People have been asking about Darko from the beginning. He finally graced us with his presence. 
> 
> Elena is nice and all, but don't get used to her. I don't like making OCs a huge part of the plot if I don't have to (says the girl writing a multi-story kid fic series....).
> 
> Strats, I hear you thinking, when are they going to do the sex and the kink _at the same time_ (Oh and LET ME TELL YOU how much Nigel is on board with the kink and I had to actively fight to keep him from whipping out a blindfold in the club scene)???
> 
> Soon. Nigel and Adam are both having thoughts about the kinky part of their relationship. Nigel is concerned, because he is a bad man, and he doesn't feel bad about that, but he still is _aware_ of it. Meanwhile, Adam's thoughts are more along the lines of 'it's so nice when someone else is making the decisions. I have never felt so relaxed/sexually aroused. More of this, please.'
> 
> I think it's really important to me that Adam is pushing for this part of the relationship, because neither of them knows how to properly deal with kink negotiation or that they should have like, safewords and conversations, so if it was JUST Nigel initiating everything, the consent issues would be just TOO MUCH. But no. Adam wants this. Adam may want it more than Nigel does, and Nigel wants it pretty bad.
> 
> I really didn't want to end this chapter with a fade-to-black 'and then they had vanilla lovemaking', but when I tried to make smut happen, it was just really out of place and didn't fit with the theme of the chapter. It just was unnecessary and awkward. But don't worry, there's lots of smut to come.
> 
> Adam made what might be considered a mistake in this chapter, by the way. I wonder if anyone caught it?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey, now would be a really good time to remember all of those warnings! As always, more detailed warnings can be found in the end notes.

It starts small, light. Nigel knows how to coax Adam into things. He’s gotten so good at it. Adam will start out entirely sure that there’s no time for sex, or to be held, and Nigel will ease him into it so gently that Adam doesn’t even realize it’s happening until Nigel is sprawled out on top of him.

“I took the whole weekend off,” Nigel tells him, three days ahead of time, so that Adam has time to prepare. He does it carefully. He waits until Adam has had his mac and cheese and his show, waits until they’re curled up on the couch and he’s pressing a piece of chocolate to Adam’s lips ( _‘But I didn’t do anything,’_ Adam says. _‘Of course you did,’_ Nigel tells him, _‘My good boy, taking care of himself.’),_ so that Adam is already relaxed and open to coaxing.

“You’re busy on weekends,” Adam tells him, “You’re busy every day.”

“Well, not this weekend. This weekend it’s just you and me, and that bed of yours. All weekend long.”

Adam’s face scrunches up. “The male refractory period-”

“Do you trust me, baby?”

“Yes, Nigel.” Automatic, no thought to it. Adam has never trusted anyone more.

“Then trust me now. I’ll make you feel so good.”

“You always make me feel good.”

Nigel laughs. Kisses him, again and again, until Adam has to shove him off and remind him that he has work in the morning.

Days later, they go through the same routine. Dinner, show, cuddle. It isn’t until Adam starts to head for the bathroom that things change. Nigel follows, catching Adam around the waist and pulling him back against his chest.

“Not yet, baby. You’re going to want a shower later.” Adam wants to protest that _now_ is shower time, but he knows that Nigel hates the idea of showering twice. As long as the shower comes before bed, it can’t be so bad to put it off for a little bit. Just not until morning, like he knows Nigel would prefer.

They pass the bathroom. Nigel guides Adam to the bed with steady hands on his hips. Adam knows he’d prefer to strip them both slowly, make it part of the sex, but this is one of the compromises Nigel makes for him. They both undress, quick and perfunctory, and Nigel makes sure Adam sees him put every bit in the laundry basket, except for a scrap of cloth he’d been keeping in his pocket.

“You trust me, right, gorgeous?”

And Adam nods, helpless to say anything else. Nigel guides him down into the sheets, climbing up along side him. He takes Adam’s hands in his and stretches them out above his head, carefully wrapping Adam’s fingers around the slats in the headboard. “Don’t let go, alright? Hold on until I tell you to stop. Be good for me.”

Those are the magic words. Adam’s fingers tense, and he grips the headboard like he might fly away otherwise. He feels like it’s true. Nigel always makes him feel things that are ridiculous, nonsensical, and yet intense.

The scrap of cloth dangles over Adam’s face. “Head up, Adam. I’m going to blindfold you.”

It’s not a question. Nigel is not asking. Adam’s instincts tell him to hesitate, to inquire. Instead, he lifts his head and lets Nigel wrap the cloth around his eyes, blocking out the light.

Adam’s senses are sharp, taking in too much too fast at the best of times. Without his sight, everything else is magnified. He can hear Nigel’s steady breathing, his own slightly quicker. Nigel’s hands slide gently down his chest, and Adam breaks his grip on the headboard to swat them away.

“Adam-”

“Too soft,” Adam interrupts, “Please, I can’t-”

“Shh, I know, baby, I’m sorry.” Nigel’s hands grab his wrists and guide him back into place. “Don’t move,” He says again, and pulls away.

This time, he waits. Adam drifts in blackness and silence, long enough to tense in anticipation, and then relax entirely. This, it seems, is what Nigel was waiting for. The second Adam sinks back against the bed, Nigel’s nails scrape bright, hot lines of pain down Adam’s chest.

“Oh,” Adam says, “Oh, that’s...” It’s pain, yes. Definitely pain. But Adam’s been half-hard since Nigel laid him out across the bed, and the pain stirs his arousal up into something sharper, more intense. Nigel does it again, down his sides and back up again, teasing around his nipples but not yet touching.

“That better, gorgeous? Not too soft for you?”

Adam is pretty sure he’s teasing, just as his nails tease paths across Adam’s skin. Adam throws his head back with a whine.

“Yeah, baby, that’s what I thought.” Wet heat encircles Adam’s nipple. Nigel licks over it, quick little grazes with his tongue, until it stands at attention. He sucks at the sensitive bud, until Adam arches his back, lifting up towards his mouth with soft, eager whimpers. He nips at it with his teeth when he pulls away, just hard enough to draw a hiss from Adam’s lips, before kissing his way across Adam’s chest to give the other nipple the same treatment.

Without his sight, all Adam can think about are the tight peaks of his nipples, the way the air feels cool over each spit-slick bud. Nigel pulls off of him with a slight ‘pop’, teasing over sensitized flesh with his fingertips. What had been too soft on his sides is a rough tease against his chest. Adam bucks his hips up into empty air and clenches his eyes shut tight behind the blindfold. Nigel’s grip grows bolder, soft little pinches, stronger and stronger until Adam’s thighs quake with the pressure, with the effort of thrusting up against nothing. Nigel’s fingers are brutal, unyielding. He tugs and twists until Adam sobs, head thrashing.

“Poor baby,” Nigel croons, but he does not sound particularly sincere, even to Adam’s limited understanding. He presses himself down between Adam’s thighs, trapping Adam’s aching cock against his stomach. It gives Adam something to grind up against, and he does so greedily, rubbing himself against Nigel’s stomach until Nigel presses down tight enough to trap Adam’s hips against the bed.

“Shh, baby, you’ll get what you need, just wait.” Nigel is all Adam can think about. His voice, his hands. He feels like he’s tied in place, rather than just holding on. “You’re so red, baby,” Nigel breaths against his throat, “So red and sensitive. Does it hurt?” He punctuates his question with a sharp twist of Adam’s nipples, and Adam sobs.

“Yes!”

He can feel Nigel’s smile against his throat as Nigel twists again, the same side, leaving Adam off balance, making the pain all Adam can think about. “Do you like it?”

And he does, he _does_. It’s not pain, the way Adam has experienced it before. It’s not agony, not suffering. It’s a constant heat, a pleasure that spikes, that builds and builds in his stomach. “ _Please,_ ” He begs. Nigel thrusts down against the bed. Adam can’t feel his cock yet, but the roll of his hips is enough to grind his stomach against Adam, to put blissful pressure where Adam is hard and desperate.

“Answer me, gorgeous. If you want more, you have to answer.” Nigel sucks hard at Adam’s throat, sharp teeth against sensitive skin, and Adam forgets the question. Forgets everything but the heat of Nigel against him, until Nigel bites gently at a nipple and asks again. “Do you _like it_ , Adam? Do you like that it hurts.”

“ _Yes._ ”

“There’s my good boy.” Nigel lines them up properly, shifting so their erections press together, slick with arousal and almost too-much in Adam’s blinded state.

“Nigel, _please_ ,” Adam begs. He lets go of the headboard with one hand, reaching, but Nigel grabs it before he can touch.

“If you let go again, I’ll stop,” Nigel warns, wrapping Adam’s hand back around the slat. “I’ll stop completely, jerk off over your stomach, and drag you into the shower. You’ll go to bed hard and wanting, baby, and you know you won’t be able to sleep like that, will you?”

“No, Nigel,” Adam says, and it comes out in a desperate whine that he’s never heard himself make before.

“Then be good for me. You’ll come when I’m ready to let you.”

Something about the words does something for Adam. He’s never found conversation to be particularly sexy, too much nuance and interpretation. But Nigel… Nigel says exactly what he means, especially to Adam, and Adam can’t help but thrust up against him. He can feel Nigel’s laughter shaking his body.

“Alright, impatient little thing, I’ve got you.” He grips Adam’s hip, lifts him up off the bed with one hand cupping his ass, and lines them up. They slide together in rough, shaky motions. Whatever Adam feels, it is matched in Nigel. Adam can feel Nigel’s control slipping. Nigel’s cock thrusts against Adam’s, and his fingers find Adam’s nipples again, rubbing over them in firm circles, back and forth until even that smooth motion aches. Adam sobs.

“Please, Nigel, please please _please_ ,” He’s never had to ask for pleasure before, never had to beg. His trysts with Nigel so far have involved careening towards the end, pushing and pulling each other until they get there. This drawn out suffering is addicting, but still so new, so beyond anything Adam has experienced.

“Alright, baby, okay.” Nigel pulls away abruptly, leaving Adam bereft. Adam sobs his displeasure, hands clenching hard around the headboard, barely able to resist disobedience.

“Shh,” Nigel soothes, a hot breath against him, right where Adam is so desperate. Adam has maybe a second to connect the dots, to brace himself, before Nigel sinks his mouth over Adam’s aching cock.

“Oh!” It’s a sudden wave of hot, wet pressure. Nigel sucks around him, cups Adam’s ass with both hands and lets Adam thrust up into the slick slide of his mouth.

Objectively, Adam is aware that Nigel has slept with other people, other men. It doesn’t bother him. He sees no reason to be jealous over people who no longer matter, although he knows from Nigel’s careful avoidance that most people do not feel the same. It has not occurred to him, however, that he might _benefit_ from this experience, not until he rocks himself up in frantic, short little bursts and Nigel just keeps swallowing around him. Tugs him _closer_ , even, until every inch of Adam is lost to the pleasure of Nigel’s mouth, his eager tongue.

There’s no sight. No sound beyond Adam’s slick thrusts, the occasional swallow. Adam’s pleasure is concentrated, two aching points on his chest, still sore and tight in the cool air, and the heat of Nigel around him. He feels like he’s breaking apart. He tenses, his whole body a single line of tightly curled anticipation.

“Nigel,” He gasps, “I’m… You should stop...”

Nigel doubles down, pulling back to suck hard at the head of Adam’s cock, tonguing over the slit in a way that sends shock waves through Adam. Adam thrusts hard up into his mouth, and comes, shaking.

Nigel swallows around him, cleaning Adam up with tiny, gentle swipes of his tongue, until the sensation is too much and Adam squirms in his grasp. Then he pulls up to press kisses to Adam’s face. Adam can feel him pant against his skin, hears a slick, repetitive sound that can only be one thing, and then Nigel spills hot across Adam’s chest.

They collapse together, Nigel pressed up against him, heavy over Adam’s stomach. The mess smears across Adam’s body, distracting from Nigel’s comforting weight. Adam whimpers softly, until Nigel pulls the blindfold away and mops them both up with it. It’s a hasty, halfhearted job, but it’s enough to sooth Adam and relieve some of the ache that strange textures bring.

Adam feels like he’s floating away. He blinks up into the light of the bedroom, struggling to make sense of the sights that had been robbed from him. Nigel presses into his side, sucking kisses into Adam’s jaw and gently prying his fists from the headboard. He places a softer kiss into each of of Adam’s palms, guiding his trembling hands to rest between their chests. Adam is a haze of sensation, of nerve endings firing and twitching.

It’s only Friday.

\-----  
In the morning, Adam is needy and clingy, in his own Adam way. He’s not generally as desperate for touch and physical contact as Nigel is. In fact, sometimes he will bristle and sharpen under Nigel’s hands, ducking away from an overwhelming sensation. Clingy, for Adam, largely means orbiting like Nigel’s own personal little satellite. He trails Nigel through the apartment, always just a few inches away, close enough for Nigel to reach out and touch if he so chooses, which he usually does. Even when Nigel disappears into the bathroom, he practically trips over Adam on his way back out. It is clear that Adam has no idea what to do with Nigel for an entire weekend, a Nigel who doesn’t head off to work when breakfast is over. The exact moment Adam tips over from nervous excitement to unsteady anxiety is clear in every stiff line of his features.

“Come here, _iubi_ _ţ_ _el_ ,” Nigel finally coos, when he finally has his fill of Adam’s sweet hesitance, of the way he curls up on the other end of the couch and then stares longingly at the middle cushion, unable to bring himself to ask for what he wants. Nigel knows that Adam has an idea of himself as something frustrating, obnoxious even. He has no idea what his very presence does to Nigel, the way Nigel wants to constantly have his hands on Adam, for hours, whether they’re naked and entwined in Adam’s bed, or Adam is rambling about the millions of little facts he keeps tucked away in his brain. Nigel loves both versions of Adam, and would gleefully eviscerate every single person who ever made Adam feel annoying, given the chance.

“I don’t speak Romanian,” Adam reminds him, as if Nigel could forget, but he crawls into the space Nigel has made for him anyway, sinking into the welcoming curve of Nigel’s body with a nearly inaudible little sigh. Nigel hears it. Nigel notices every single little thing Adam does.

“You don’t need to. Just another way for me to call you my baby, my darling, and watch your skin go nice and pink.”

“I don’t do that,” Adam insists, even though he is already flushing. Nigel eyes it eagerly, every bit of pink skin he can see. He’s learning what buttons to push to get exactly the reaction he wants, and he pushes one now, laying his fingers out over Adam’s hips. He rubs little circles into the hollow between the bone and Adam’s groin, until Adam’s breathing tightens and a tiny little whimper breaks from him.

“I want to go to bed,” Adam whispers against the collar of Nigel’s shirt. Nigel lets his hands still, pretends to think about it. He moves from Adam’s hips to his ass, cupping with both hands and guiding Adam forward until he can feel the hard line of Nigel’s erection against his stomach.

“What if we didn’t?” Nigel asks, taking the soft lobe of Adam’s ear between his teeth and tugging gently. Adam squirms, half pleasure and half discomfort. His ears are always a fine line between pleasure and too-much. “What if you let me have you right here?”

Adam’s squirming dwindles. He tucks his face against Nigel’s shoulder and breaths him in. Adam compartmentalizes, Nigel knows this. They have sex in the bed because the bed is where Adam has always had sex, and because the sheets are easy to clean, and because then Adam can keep the pieces of his life distinct: meals in the kitchen, movies in the living room, sex in the bedroom. But despite his need for boundaries, Adam is not entirely unreasonable, and Nigel knows he is a lot more comfortable in his own living room than he’d been in Nigel’s office.

Still, Adam needs coaxing. He likes to be convinced. He likes when he says no, or hesitates, and Nigel tries to change his mind with soft little kisses. Sometimes, he doesn’t change his mind, and they both enjoy the sharp-edged frustration of a chaste make-out session, but lately, he’s been particularly eager to let Nigel make decisions for him.

Now, Nigel uses his hands on Adam’s ass to guide Adam into slow, deep thrusts, pressing a thigh between Adam’s to give him something to grind against. Adam takes the bait, whimpering as he rolls his hips into Nigel.

“Wouldn’t it feel good, baby?” Nigel whispers in his ear, letting the soft puff of breath send shivers through Adam’s tense form. “I’ve wanted you to ride me for ages, since I first got a handful of this pretty little body.” His hands tighten, emphasizing his point, and Adam whimpers against him, hips stuttering in a desperate jerk.

“I don’t… I don’t...” Adam tries and fails to form an argument. Nigel has already won, but he’s more than happy to guide Adam into place with his words anyway.

“You could have whatever you wanted, darling, as deep or as slow as you like. I know you love the way I look at you, don’t you want me to watch?”

“I don’t have anything out here,” Adam finally says. Nigel grabs one of his wrists and guides it to his pocket, to feel the little bottle of lube and the foil square he’d hidden there while Adam was in the bathroom.

“Would I leave you high and dry, Adam? Don’t you trust me to take care of you?”

“Oh...” There it is, the soft little moan that means Adam is convinced. Adam tugs frantically at the buttons to Nigel’s shirt, and Nigel lets him, content to watch Adam’s desperate fumbling even if he’d be faster doing it himself. Adam is gorgeous in all situations, but there is a particular beauty to his eagerness in sex, to the way he throws himself wholeheartedly into getting what he wants. It amuses Nigel to know that the shyness that keeps Adam’s head bowed in public conversation dies entirely when it comes to sexual gratification. So long as he knows exactly what is going to happen.

Nigel lets Adam ease him out of his shirt and get his pants open before he finally returns the favor, and then Adam stills, holding the shirt in his hand. Nigel realizes the problem immediately.

“What if we folded it?” He suggests, “Nice and neat in a pile on the coffee table, and then showered and put it right back on when we’re done? Then it doesn’t have to go into the basket, because it’s not dirty laundry, but it won’t be messy and all over your floor.”

Adam nods, although he doesn’t look entirely certain. Nigel coaxes the certainty from him with his teeth, nipping a line of gentle bites down his throat. Between them, they get everything folded and tucked away, without Adam stressing too much, although his eyes keep darting over to the pile. No matter. Nigel has a new distraction already prepared.

“Will you open yourself up for me?”

Adam falters, staring at the tube in Nigel’s hand, gaze lingering over Nigel’s fingers. Hesitant. “I don’t want to,” he finally says, “I like it better when you do it.”

Nigel considers that. It strokes at his ego, something that always gets lovers what they want. And oh, does Nigel want to give Adam each and every thing he wants. But Adam wants more than just the physical aspect of Nigel’s fingers. He wants Nigel’s control, his command. “You will, though, won’t you? If I tell you to?”

There is no hesitation in Adam’s nod, but there is a bit of disappointment lingering over his features. Nigel doesn’t want him disappointed, not right now, not when he’s being so good for Nigel. He wants the sight of it, Adam braced over him, on his knees, three fingers deep in his own body and squirming with the eagerness of it. But he can wait. “Not today,” he tells Adam, drizzling the lube over his own fingers instead, “But next time, you’ll put on a show for me, won’t you?”

“Yes, Nigel.” No hesitation, no shyness. Nothing but Nigel’s beautiful, obedient boy. Nigel drags him into a kiss with a tight grip on his curls, and slides damp fingers over the curve of his ass. Adam is tense in his lap, but he goes boneless at the first gentle touch to his hole, slick fingers carefully begging entrance. He hums against Nigel’s mouth, whining softly when Nigel goes straight for two, sliding into him in carefully measured thrusts. Neither of them are patient men, and Nigel likes to kiss away the crease of Adam’s brow when pleasure is intertwined so carefully with pain. He likes Adam on the edge of sensation, close to his limits and taking it because it is something Nigel has given him. So far, they’ve had very little chance to play with it, but Nigel is willing to push the boundaries every chance he gets.

A third finger comes almost before Adam is ready. Adam gasps into Nigel’s mouth, pressing back against his insistent thrusts, arching his back for more. Nigel’s fingers press forward, searching, until Adam whines and reaches back to hold his wrist in place.

“There?” Nigel asks with a sharp grin, crooking his fingers again. Adam sobs out his confirmation, grinding his cock against Nigel’s thigh. Nigel twists his fingers, again and again until Adam is shaking with pleasure. “Let go,” Nigel says, and when Adam hesitates, he twists his fingers more firmly through Adam’s hair and tugs sharply. Adam releases his wrist immediately, bending into the touch with a pleased moan. Adam, it is quickly becoming clear, has a little bit of a kink for roughhousing. Nigel is happy to oblige. He gives Adam a few more cursory thrusts, spreading out the lube, before pulling his fingers free. Adam’s back is still arched from Nigel’s grip, but he pouts a little, rocking his hips to chase the feeling.

“Easy, baby,” Nigel soothes, “I’ll give you what you need.” It takes a little bit of fumbling to get the condom on, with Adam heavy in his lap and entirely unhelpful in his desire. Adam’s steady little thrusts against his stomach are distracting, enough that Nigel almost wants to forgo the condom altogether and just let Adam rub one out over his chest.

Almost.

Adam, in the end, would not be satisfied with that. He’s always hot for it, always willing to welcome Nigel into his body. Nigel thinks he could get Adam to beg for cock, if he tried, with very little prompting on his behalf. He’s not going to make him, not tonight. Not when Nigel wants it just as bad.

Adam is just as tight and hot around him as he was the first time. He tilts his head back, eyes closed, as Nigel guides him down slowly. He breaths out in short little gasps, rocking his hips in tiny motions as he adjusts. Nigel forces himself still, even though every instinct screams at him to flip them over and fuck Adam until the carpet leaves reddened burns all up his back. Adam would let him, Nigel knows he would, and that only makes the yearning worse.

But Nigel… He is not a good man, and he never will be, but he tries to at the very least be good for Adam. He lets Adam adjust, waits until the thin line of tension leaves his brow before he plants his feet and bucks up, encouraging Adam to move with a tight grip on his hips.

The noise that breaks from Adam is more of a whimper than a moan, but all pleasure. Technically, Nigel is strong enough to guide their lovemaking, even now, but it’s the first time Adam has had enough leverage to take what he wants. And take he does, moving in rough little bursts until he finds his rhythm and ends up practically bouncing in Nigel’s lap. There’s always a bit of shame in this position, a little bit of embarrassment, but not with Adam. Adam stares at the curve of Nigel’s jaw with his mouth open, frantic gasps ripping from him as he fucks back onto Nigel’s cock, moving however it pleases him to move without the slightest bit of hesitation. It’s a fucking masterpiece, is what it is, Adam flushed with pleasure, cock leaking as he grinds down, sobbing as Nigel rubs against his prostate in increasingly vicious thrusts. Nigel lets Adam guide the show until his thighs start to tremble, until Adam reaches down to wrap a fist around his cock, and then he decides to give Adam some of the direction he so craves.

Nigel’s hand comes down against the soft curve of Adam’s ass with a sharp ‘smack!’ Adam freezes in place, one hand braced on the back of the couch for leverage, one still clutching his achingly hard cock. A breath of air escapes him, soundless in his shock, as he tries to find reason in Nigel’s eyes.

“Don’t touch,” Nigel says, swatting him on the other side to give him a semblance of balance. This time, Adam’s eyes flutter closed. Nigel had known there was a masochist buried in there somewhere. He’d just needed a reason to bring it out. “You can come on my cock, or you can beg me to touch you, but you don’t touch yourself unless I tell you to, understand?”

Adam drops his hand like he’s been burned, flailing helplessly for a minute before bracing himself against Nigel’s chest. The position bends him forward, exposing more of his backside to Nigel’s wandering hands. Nigel caresses the heated flesh. It wasn’t hard enough to bruise, not this time, but Adam will have reddened hand prints across his ass when he looks later. The thought makes Nigel arch his back, fucking up hard into Adam’s willing body.

“I asked you if you understood me, baby,” Nigel says, gripping tight to Adam’s hips as he grinds up against him, “Are you listening to me?”

“Yes,” Adam babbles, fingers grasping at Nigel’s chest, tugging at the soft curls there and grazing helplessly over his nipples, “Yes, Nigel.”

“There we go,” Nigel sighs, guiding Adam into a new rhythm, raising and lowering him, deep thrusts that make Adam gasp every time. “I knew you were my good boy. You are my good boy, aren’t you, darling? Going to do everything I tell you to, and get off on it.”

Adam’s mouth shape the words, but there’s no sound behind them. He’s lost to the push and pull of their bodies, the heavy press of Nigel’s cock inside of him. It’s just how Nigel likes him, desperate and aching for him.

“I’m going to spank you again,” Nigel warns, resting a hand over Adam’s ass, “Not because you did anything wrong, you’re still my good boy. But because you liked it, didn’t you, Adam?”

Adam moans, eyes squeezed shut as he rides Nigel, shaking in his lap.

“Use your words, baby. How can I give you what you want if you don’t tell me what that is?” To emphasize his point, Nigel tightens his one-handed grip on Adam’s hip, stilling him. Adam whines unhappily, fingers dragging over Nigel’s skin as he clenches and unclenches his fists.

“I want it,” He says, voice high and desperate, “I liked it, I want it, hit me.”

Something about that clenches in Nigel’s gut. Spanking is fine, spanking is sexy. Everyone does a little bit of it.

Something about the way Adam asks to be _hit_ sends of warning bells in Nigel’s head, flashes of the man he truly is, the man he tries so hard to keep Adam safe from. For a moment, he pictures it. Working Adam over until he’s sobbing, until he aches. He wonders if Adam would let him, if Adam would _like_ it.

He brings his hand down harder than he meant to, with a crack that echoes over Adam’s little moans. Adam sobs out his pleasure and comes, untouched, all over Nigel’s stomach, clenching hard around him and dragging Nigel’s orgasm from him in frantic rolls of his hips. They collapse together, a sweaty, messy heap. Nigel pets a hand roughly through Adam’s hair and tries not to think too hard about his own fucked up mind.

Later, in the shower, Adam stares at him, curiosity bubbling just under the surface. His backside is fading, but Nigel can still see the flush-red imprint of his own hand, where he’d gotten too carried away. Adam rubs a hand over it, thoughtful.

“Out with it,” Nigel finally says, tucking guilt behind a mask of confidence, “What’s going through that pretty little head of yours?”

“You hit me,” Adam says, all blunt certainty, without a hint of shame. Nigel swallows a mouthful of sudsy water and doesn’t say anything, lets Adam work through his thoughts on his own time. Adam huffs, unsatisfied with the response. “Are you going to do it again?” He prods.”

Nigel sighs and tilts Adam’s head back, working shampoo through damp, limp curls. “I didn’t hit you,” He protests, “I spanked you. There’s a difference.”

“I don’t think there is,” Adam says, eyes closed, smiling like he does when he explains to Nigel just how backwards people can be. He’s so casual about it, so cavalier. Like it doesn’t bother him at all. Nigel rinses the suds out and swallows around a knot in his throat.

“Do you want me to do it again, darling?”

Adam peeks at him through his lashes, dangerous in his beauty. “Yes, Nigel.”

\-----  
In the morning, they are both a little restless. At least, Adam assumes that it is restlessness on Nigel’s behalf. Nigel has been off since their shower the night before, but it’s easy to assume that he feels the same way Adam does. After all, they’ve never spent so much time together before, without a break, and it makes sense that it would leave them both feeling off-kilter.

_(Adam knows better, by now, than to assign other people emotions just because he himself is feeling them, but his confidence is still through the roof from their sexual intercourse, and he has trouble coming back down from that.)_

Regardless of what Nigel is feeling, _Adam_ is definitely restless. He’s aware that his routines are not typical of most people. He feels awkward offering Nigel the same simple meals he always eats, or forcing Nigel through episodes of ‘Inside The Actor’s Studio’ which Adam can recite word-for-word. So, when Nigel’s phone rings and he starts arguing with the man on the other end about his ‘day off,’ Adam reaches out to place a hand on his arm.

“You should go,” Adam says, “If they need you in your office.” This is not a surprise, to either of them. Adam has spent the whole weekend alternating between blissful joy that Nigel is here, and frantic anxiety over when he is going to leave. The next words out of Adam’s mouth, however, surprise even Adam himself. “I’ll come with you.”

Nigel stares at him. Adam stares back, hesitation and anxiety flooding his chest with every thump of his heart. He goes to the club, of course, has settled into Nigel’s office many times before. But he does it because Nigel requests it of him. Never does he volunteer himself.

But he knows what he wants to do there. Nigel has been pressing Adam’s boundaries since they met. Adam isn’t stupid, he knows Nigel does it on purpose. Adam wants to show that he wants it, that he will let Nigel take him out of his comfort zone. Even if the thought makes his fingers start to tap against his thighs.

\-----

Nigel is grinning the whole way through the club. Adam can tell, because he looks at Nigel to avoid having to look anywhere else. Too noisy, too bright. It never gets any better, though Adam had hoped it would.

Nigel has to talk with Darko, a man Adam has only seen in passing. He settles Adam onto the couch with a ball of clay and _two_ bites of chocolate at once, which is how Adam knows he’s made the right decision. He locks Adam into the office with a promise to return as soon as possible, and Adam soothes himself by passing the clay from hand to hand, squeezing out his shakes until he can breathe again.

He knows things about Nigel, understands him in a way that he has never understood another person. Adam knows that Nigel wants him, that Nigel likes him happy and sated. He knows that Nigel wants to push his boundaries, but doesn’t want to _hurt_ him, not outside of sexual contact. And even there, Nigel hesitates, like he can’t quite believe Adam wants these things. But Adam does. He wants everything Nigel has to give him, and he wants to give Nigel everything he wants. Adam frequently has trouble pushing past his own needs to see other people’s, with how distracting and too-much the world can be, but he wants to cater to Nigel.

And he knows, though Nigel has never outright said it, that Nigel wants to have sex with him in this office. Adam doesn’t quite understand why, since Adam’s house is quieter and more comfortable and has a shower, but Nigel can never keep his hands off of Adam while they’re here, and Adam… Adam wants to do what Nigel wants.

They had sex on the couch, and nothing went wrong. Adam could do this, for Nigel. Especially if Nigel didn’t try to touch him in return. Adam can’t handle the idea of being sticky and sweaty all the way home. But Nigel doesn’t care. Adam can give Nigel an orgasm, and then they’ll both be satisfied.

These are the reassurances Adam tells himself, as the heavy beat of the club blends with the beat of his own heart, until his hands are trembling where they clutch at the clay.

In the end, he doesn’t manage to ask Nigel what he wants. The words never make it from his mouth, caught in anxiety and twisted up in his chest. They stutter and die there, with Nigel standing in front of him. Like this, with Adam seated on the couch, Adam’s eyes can’t help but focus on the front of Nigel’s jeans, the glinting metal of his belt buckle. He fixates on that buckle, so intent that whatever Nigel says goes right over his head. Adam swallows, dry mouthed, and grabs for the buckle.

Nigel jerks back, just out of reach, but Adam pulls him forward by the belt loops and works his pants down in unsteady motions. Nigel gives up his protests when Adam gets a hand into his briefs, dragging them down to join his jeans.

He hasn’t done this before, and any similar acts with Beth were not similar enough to give him any sort of idea. Nor has he learned anything useful from being on the receiving end. But Adam _wants_ it, he’s fantasized about it, the thick, heavy feel of Nigel in his mouth.

The reality of it is both better and worse. Better, because Adam can properly feel the weight, the way Nigel thickens with every slow drag of Adam’s lips. Worse, because Adam cannot _stop thinking._ He thinks about how loud everything is, (And it’s not, not really, he knows it isn’t, but it _feels_ loud), how Nigel’s office is not quite one of his safe spaces, how anyone could walk in on them, and while he knows that’s part of the appeal for Nigel, it makes Adam tense and freeze up on the inside. On the next bob of his head, Adam practically chokes himself in his determination to do this _right_.

Nigel drags him back with a hand tight in his hair, a grip that always makes Adam shiver. “Baby,” He says, in that sweet, slow tone he uses to sooth, “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

Adam looks up at him, mouth red and damp with his own saliva, chest heaving. He does and he doesn’t. He is uncomfortable, and he is eager. He is.. He is scared, but he is willing.

“I want to,” Adam says, “Please?”

Nigel’s eyes are wide, pupils blown until already dark eyes are practically dark with arousal. Adam knows all of his physical tells, and he can feel a slight tremor where his hands rest on Nigel’s thighs. He’s done something right, and the response is worth trying again.

Adam tilts his head back, exposes the length of his neck where Nigel always likes to bite and kiss. Lets his eyes drift over Nigel’s firm cheekbones, the bridge of his nose, as close to eye contact as he usually gets. He licks his lips and tastes Nigel on his tongue. “Please?” He asks again, and can’t help but smile when Nigel groans, “Please, Nigel, let me?”

And Adam can’t entirely say he gets it, what Nigel likes about the words, but they get Adam exactly what he wants. Nigel’s grip tightens in his hair and he thrusts forward into Adam’s waiting mouth, in tiny increments that go deeper and deeper, until Adam can swallow around the entire hot length of him. Like this, Adam can barely move, held tight in place for Nigel to take his pleasure. It’s too much sometimes, pressing against the back of his throat, a flutter of warning that doesn’t quite tip his gag reflex, but it’s even better this way. Adam’s neck doesn’t ache from bobbing his head, he doesn’t have to worry that he’ll go too fast or slow or shallow. He knows he’s doing it right, because Nigel leaves him no other choice.

He wants to touch himself, but he remembers everything Nigel tells him, and the words echo now: _Don’t touch. Y_ _ou don’t touch yourself unless I tell you to._ Adam knows that Nigel had meant _then_ , that if he had wanted to truly forbid Adam, he would have been more clear. He’s always specific and careful with Adam.

But Adam thinks about what it will do to Nigel, days later, when he figures out what Adam has given up for him. How his pulse will quicken and his eyes will darken, as they do every time Adam is _good._

Adam swallows hard and doesn’t touch himself, grips hard to Nigel’s thighs and works his tongue against the slick slide of the cock in his mouth.

When Adam loses himself to it, when he closes his eyes and hums around the heavy thrusts, when he _finally_ shuts out the rest of the world, he feels like he could do this forever. Nigel tastes like salt, like skin, and a hint of bitter sourness that Adam finds unpleasant but not intolerable. He likes the thick scent that is just _Nigel_ , underneath the unpleasant cologne he applies in the mornings, and like this, Nigel is all he can smell. Smell and taste and feel. Nigel’s grip tightens, his hips stutter in their rhythm, and Adam nearly chokes as Nigel presses up against the back of his throat and comes and comes until he’s filled Adam so completely that Adam has a flash of unfamiliar fantasy, the vaguely ridiculous idea that he might never be rid of Nigel again. That he might close his eyes hours later and still taste this.

It’s not a pleasant taste, but Nigel is buried deep enough in his mouth that Adam swallows most of his semen before it ever hits his tongue. And keeps swallowing, undulating his tongue against Nigel, over and over again until Nigel curses and pulls himself free. Adam gasps for breath he hadn’t known he’d lost, hands trembling against his thighs, hair mussed beyond repair, lips swollen and still tingling with the memory of Nigel’s cock fucking into him. He doesn’t know what he looks like, but he can see the sensuality of it in the way Nigel looks him over with a toothy grin and shoves him back to lie along the couch.

Nigel brings him off with a firm hand shoved underneath the waistband of his briefs, with Adam writhing and bucking beneath him, squirming and whimpering until he can barely stand to hold back. Then, Nigel ducks his head and licks and sucks his way down, until Adam comes with desperate, needy cries.

Nigel licks up the mess like it’s something delicious, something to be savored, and Adam loses a little more of himself to this new life, little pieces he will never be able to untangle again. He regrets nothing, even with all the noise.

\-----

“You have a glow,” Gabi says at Monday’s lunch. Adam wrinkles his nose and frowns at her until she corrects herself with a smile that looks like amusement. “You look happy, Adam. Very happy.”

Adam mulls that over for a moment, and then nods. “I am happy. I had a very good weekend.”

“Did you spend it with your Nigel?”

Adam reaches for his social cues and fails to find them, struggling silently until Gabi takes pity on him.

“I am your friend, Adam,” She says, “It is alright to tell me about your relationship.”

“Harlan says it’s not polite to talk to people about sex.”

Gabi waves him off. “Harlan is… Harlan is like your uncle. He has seen you as a little thing, has helped to raise you. He is more family than friend. Friends, you can talk to about sex.”

Adam drums his fingers listlessly against the table. He had been warned, by Harlan and his father, that people were weird about the things two men did together. But Gabi was all smiles, and she had asked.

“He took the weekend off for sexual experimentation. I gave him a...” Adam stumbles over the clinical term and ends up sounding more like Nigel than he means to, “A blow job in his office at work.”

Gabi’s eyes go wide and her mouth opens.

“It’s alright,” Adam reassures her hastily, “Nigel owns a strip club. Many people have had sex in the offices.”

This does not seem to be as comforting as he means it to be. Gabi’s gaze narrows and a furrow appears between her brows, but she reaches out and takes his hands anyway.

“You are safe, and you are happy?” She says.

Adam smiles. “Yes. Very happy.”

\-----  
Things are going well for Adam, impossibly well, and so, he should not be at all surprised when things immediately go south. He still is, of course, because when a man drags you backwards into an alley with a too-tight grip on your hair and a knife at your throat, it is impossible to avoid surprise. Adam whimpers and gets a rough shake as punishment. Nigel’s hand in his hair is a source of both reassurance and sexual pleasure. This is nothing like that. The man grips hard enough to bring tears to Adam’s eyes, and the knife at his throat is bitingly sharp. The man says something, a burst of sounds, aggressive and rushed. Adam panics and flaps his hands at his sides.

“I don’t, I don’t understand.”

The man says a word that Adam recognizes as a curse, one of Nigel’s favorites, and then switches to English. _“_ Fucking tourists _._ Your wallet. Which pocket is it in?”

His left front pocket. Adam reaches for it on instinct and the man panics, shoving Adam roughly to the ground. Someone braces a boot on the back of his head, pinning him into place. Adam realizes the man has a friend when another foot lands on his wrist, grinding it into the concrete until Adam cries out in pain.

“Shut up!” Someone, Adam can’t see who, delivers a kick to Adam’s side. It’s hard enough that Adam gags, dry heaving as he’s kicked again. His free hand starts to tremble, flapping hard against the ground.

“Fucking crazy little...” The voice trails off into Romanian. Someone pins Adam’s hand against the small of his back and begins to rifle through his pockets, crowing in triumph when they finally free his wallet.

“We were never here,” The first man says to Adam, “You never saw us.” Adam doesn’t have the breath to reassure him that it’s true. The man quickly makes it a lie, anyway, flipping Adam onto his back to spit in his face. Adam freezes, staring up unseeing.

“Fucking _tourists,”_ The man says again, dragging the knife against Adam’s cheek. Adam flinches hard enough the that knife bites into his skin. The man grins and finishes the slice, a long, thin line from cheekbone to chin. Adam can feel the dampness of his own blood.

He kicks Adam in the chest, hard enough to knock every bit of oxygen from Adam’s lungs, and leaves Adam to gasp and vomit, alone in the empty alley.

\-----  
Nigel gets the call in the middle of a ‘business transaction’ with a man who tried to swindle the club. Normally, he doesn’t answer his phone in meetings, but normally, Adam doesn’t call him. A hot knife of panic twists in his chest. Nigel waves frantically at Darko. “Shut him up, I have to take this.” He waits for Darko to stuff a cloth into the man’s mouth before he answers.

“Is everything alright, darling?”

A long moment of silence, then Adam’s voice comes through, soft and hesitant. _“I need a ride.”_

“Of course, Adam, anything,” Nigel promises, checking the time. He’s a bit busy, but he could send Ioan, if he’s around. “Did they let you out of work early?”

“ _I’m not at work?”_ Adam’s voice is pitched high and tight with nerves, braced for Nigel’s reaction. Nigel checks the time again. Adam should be at work for another hour, still.

“Why aren’t you at work, darling?” Another burst of silence. Whatever it is, Adam knows Nigel is not going to like it. Nigel growls into the phone. “I cannot fix it if you don’t tell me what’s happened, Adam. I don’t want you keeping secrets from me, do you understand? Where. Are. You?”

Adam whispers something to someone, and then rattles off an address that makes Nigel growl again, hand tight on the phone.

“And why, exactly, are you at the hospital?”

He hears Adam take a deep breath and knows, just _knows_ , that he is about to get everything except the information he actually wants. Adam, in his attempts to appease and in his literal thinking, is occasionally predictable.

“ _I have a laceration on my cheek and some bruising on my chest and arms, but my ribs are not cracked like I thought they might be.”_

“ _Adam_ ,” Nigel hisses, “What. Happened?”

Adam whimpers, then. Clearly, he’d hoped to avoid this entirely, but Nigel is already angry and he won’t be placated with distractions. “They took my wallet.”

This is still not a direct answer, but it is enough, and Nigel is far too angry to try and correct Adam’s conversational skills. Furious, in fact, and his brain keeps repeating _like I thought they might be_ , over and over again, wondering exactly how hard someone had dared to hit Adam, _Nigel’s_ Adam. Nigel is going to find them and crack each and every one of their ribs with his _hands_.

“I’ll be there,” Nigel says, forcing a calm he doesn’t feel, “I will be there as soon as I can, but I’m in the middle of something, darling, you’ll have to wait for me. Can you do that?”

Adam whispers something again. _“The nurse says I can wait for you in the lobby.”_

“Good. You sit wherever they put you, and don’t move until I come for you. Sit in your chair and be a good boy, alright, gorgeous?”

“ _Yes, Nigel.”_

Nigel hangs up the phone, and then throws it against the wall as hard as he can. It smashes into pieces, and Nigel gives the pieces a proper stomp, for good measure. He turns to Darko and their companion with venom in his eyes. “Let’s finish up here, shall we?”

\-----  
As much as Nigel wants to get to Adam, he takes his time with his victim. There is too much rage in his system for his boy, right now. Adam would bear an unfair amount of it himself, and Nigel has no desire to put that on him. Instead, he cuts his hatred into the man, slicing and ripping until he’s a mere shell of what he’d once been. Darko looks impressed, by the time all is said and done, although he still grumbles when Nigel leaves disposal to him. He’s kept Adam waiting long enough.

Nigel finds Adam in the lobby, seated in a chair with a thick white bandage taped to his face, arguing with a nurse trying to call him a cab.

“My boyfriend is coming to pick me up,” Adam tells her. From the look on her face, it’s not the first time, and she’s believed it less and less each time. Worse, Adam is starting to look a little worried, as if he really thinks Nigel isn’t going to show up. Guilt twists Nigel’s stomach, and he hastens his pace.

Adam’s face lights up when he sees Nigel, although there is still a trace of hesitance there. “See?” He says to the nurse. “I would like to go home now.”

“We’ll get you home, baby,” Nigel promises, “Just let me take care of a few things, first. Sit right here.”

Adam squirms uncomfortably, but does not argue.

The nurse continues to give Nigel dirty looks, but she abates some as Nigel charms the woman at the desk and writes an excessive check to cover Adam’s treatment. It’s a pretty penny, but Nigel and Darko have savings to spare for emergencies such as this, and Nigel doesn’t need Adam fussing or worrying over it. He needs Adam at home, healing. Where Nigel can watch him.

He collects Adam from his seat with lingering hands, tugging Adam close enough under his arm that Adam stumbles until he adjusts to the weight.

“Come, _iubi_ _ţ_ _el,_ let’s get you home.”

“Nigel...”

Nigel sighs. “Not now, Adam. We can talk about it later.”

Adam fidgets for a few more steps and then tugs at Nigel’s shirt.

“Nigel. I have to go to the bathroom.”

Nigel runs over his instructions in his head, _don’t move until I come for you,_ and can’t help but laugh. His boy, obedient to a fault. Nigel shakes his head, smiling, and changes direction.

\-----

Nigel does not relax until they are out of the car and safely locked inside Adam’s apartment. Adam looks weary. Nigel knows he’s due for another dose of painkillers, but it will be a while yet before Darko has Nigel’s supplies ready for delivery. Instead, Nigel guides Adam to bed, stripping him carefully and tucking him into the sheets. He knows his boy must be hurting when he doesn’t even protest about it not being time for bed.

“Are you mad?” Adam asks, tugging Nigel down alongside him. Nigel goes willingly, sliding under the sheets and drawing Adam close to his chest.

“Not at you,” He promises.

“But you _are_ mad?” Adam presses. Nigel sighs.

“I’m fucking furious, darling, but there’s nothing I can do right now, is there? We’ll talk about it tomorrow, you can tell Darko everything you remember. I’m going to take care of this.”

Adam relaxes in his arms, tucking his face against Nigel’s chest and breathing in deeply. He nods, curls tickling at Nigel’s throat, and Nigel tightens his grip. There are worse things that can happen to a man than a few bruises. Especially a man as tightly intertwined with Nigel as Adam is. Nigel brings destruction with him wherever he goes, gleefully. Adam is a bright spark in Nigel’s darkness, and Nigel feels heavy and weak with the knowledge that he could lose Adam. That Adam could vanish if Nigel let him out of his sight for too long.

He doesn’t want to let Adam out of his sight. The thought twists and turns through Nigel’s head, tainted with the knowledge of what they’ve done. _Sit here, Adam. Not until I say, Adam. Be a good boy, Adam._

“Adam,” Nigel says, slow and cautious. The weight of what he is about to do sits with him, heavy with arousal and shame. Nigel shouldn’t. He shouldn’t dare.

But he will. And Adam is going to _let_ him.

“Adam,” Nigel says again, clearing his throat, “I don’t want you to go out without me, anymore.”

Adam tilts his head back to look at Nigel, brow furrowed. Nigel should turn back now, before Adam has the time to fully process what he’s asking.

He doesn’t turn back. He pushes forward, reckless and desperate. “I’m not saying you can’t do what you want, baby. Go where you want to go. Take your walks. I’m telling you not to do it by yourself. Wait for me, wait here. I’ll come and take you where you want to go.”

Adam chews thoughtfully on his lower lip, eyes ticking over Nigel’s face in a quick scan that makes Nigel feel exposed. “I have to go to work,” He reminds Nigel.

“I think you should take some time off work,” Nigel insists, “At least a couple of days, until the pain fades.”

Adam nods; Nigel is repeating the same thing he heard the nurse tell Adam. “But when I go back. I need to get too and from work every day.”

“I’ll drive you.”

“It’s early and you’re busy.”

“I’ll get up early,” Nigel says, and much to his embarrassment, there’s a thick desperation to his voice, a hint of a pleading whine. “I’ll be here every morning, and I’ll take you to work.”

Adam looks him over, and then slowly nods. “Okay. But I don’t want you to be mad at me. You don’t have to do this if it is going to disrupt your routines-” Adam is willing, Nigel can see it in his face, but he feels so much pressure to be as little of a bother as possible. Nigel wants to shred the people of his past into a thousand forgotten pieces. Instead, he’ll give Adam what he needs.

“Adam,” Nigel says, sharper than he means to, a commanding tone that always drops Adam right where Nigel wants him, “If I’m not here, don’t leave this apartment.”

Adam’s gaze lingers on Nigel for a long time, quiet and thoughtful. Then:

“Yes, Nigel.”

Adam presses forward, presses the whole line of his body against Nigel’s. It’s not explicitly sexual, no demand or heat to it. But he’s unmistakably needy, hot against Nigel, clinging. Nigel has no idea what he’s doing.

But he doesn’t want to stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: Manipulative Nigel, potentially coerced consent (although Adam is aware and okay with that, and it is implied that he's been encouraging it), blindfolds, very very mild surprise!pain play in the form of scratching and nipple play (because who needs kink negotiation?), references to orgasm denial, surprise!spanking (NONE OF THESE THINGS MAKE GOOD SURPRISES IN REAL LIFE BTW). At one point Adam initiates sexual contact while very uncomfortable with the idea, which may be triggering. Physical assault (Not from Nigel towards Adam), threat with a knife, mentions of vomit (not detailed). Nigel straight up beats a dude to death, mostly off screen. More bad BDSM etiquette.
> 
> Kinks: Blindfolds, nipple play, hair pulling, riding, spanking, semi-public, non-sexual D/s
> 
> Technically everything in this chapter is consensual, but here is your reminder that these idiots don't have safewords and you shouldn't do most of this stuff without safewords, like FORBIDDING YOUR PARTNER FROM LEAVING THE HOUSE jesus christ Nigel.
> 
> So this chapter took forever, but not because it was difficult to write. On the contrary, it was a fucking breeze to write and I loved every second of it. I just haven't had any _time._ When I had time to sit down, the words spilled out so easily, but I am very busy lately. Sorry, guys. Nothing is abandoned, I'm just tired.
> 
> This chapter is mostly sex, but a lot happens there. We get some more references to the kinky future we are leading into, as well as the implication that Nigel may not be as in control as he thinks he is... Adam definitely knows what he likes.
> 
> Nigel is aware of the fact that one shouldn't 'hit' their partner, and is starting to have some serious doubts about himself. Adam, on the other hand, is loving every second of this and completely unable to pick up on Nigel's distress. His smile in the shower is because he thinks they're having teasing banter, because he really doesn't think there's a difference between spanking and hitting and he would very much like Nigel to hit him again. Neither can really tell what the other is thinking, and that is absolutely going to come back into play in a future chapter. (I swear one day we will also deal with the lack of safewords. I have quite a plan for that.)
> 
> These boys are completely codependent by the way and would not survive separation. 
> 
> Gabi doesn't get to do much in this chapter, but I'm laying the foundation for some stuff that is coming. She's a little wary of this man she hasn't met who gets Adam to have sex at his strip club, that's sending up some red flags. But for now, she trusts Adam when he says he's safe. (She doesn't have a problem with the concept of strip clubs, but there's some iffy stuff going on there, and she can sense it, even if she doesn't quite know what it is she's picking up on yet.)
> 
> Nigel is actually a tiny bit angry at Adam in this chapter, it's just that he knows it's irrational. It's not Adam's fault he was attacked, but Nigel is still going through all the what ifs, including, 'what if Adam just asked for a ride back to work', despite that never being a thing they've done. Fear is irrational and it brings out the worst in everybody. But Nigel doesn't aim that anger at Adam, and that is what is important. 
> 
> Adam and Nigel are having two completely different experiences. Nigel knows what he's doing is wrong but is falling into it because of his possessive love of Adam. He feels like he's drowning.
> 
> Adam, on the other hand, doesn't see why Nigel shouldn't tell him what to do if that's what Adam wants. From his perspective, he's never told Nigel NOT to boss him around, so everything that is happening is fine and he would say something if it wasn't. Too bad he hasn't shared any of these thoughts with Nigel. (I mean, also, Adam is wrong, because SAFEWORDS AND CONSENT, but Adam is quite content in his wrongness.)
> 
> I've stopped trying to predict when chapters are going to go up but the next chapter, Adam fucks up (I bet you can guess how) and we get more BAD INTERPRETATIONS OF BDSM AND THIS IS NOT HOW CONSENT WORKS so make sure you know your warnings next time I see you.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, my lovelies, now would be a good and _extremely important_ time to remember that I put warnings in my author's notes at the end of the chapter. So if you need to be spoiled about potential triggers, hop down there!

Adam feels overwhelmed. He cries out into the room, which has otherwise been silent but for Nigel’s sharp breaths behind him. Nigel is everywhere, over and above him, pinning Adam bodily to the bed, cock pressing into him in deep, rolling thrusts.

Adam hasn’t entirely healed, and the bruising on his ribs only adds to the claustrophobic pressure. He goes back to work tomorrow, the first day back after the attack, the first step out of the apartment since Nigel has forbidden him from leaving.

The thought sends another wave of pleasure through Adam as he grinds helplessly against the sheets. He had already known he liked Nigel demanding, bossy. Liked having set expectations to meet. That Adam also found it sexually arousing had been surprising, but not unpleasant.

Nigel has been restless all day. Adam knows that he wanted Adam to stay home longer, had pushed and begged and all but demanded more time. In the end, though, he had left the decision up to Adam, and Adam had merely taken the rest of the week.

He wasn’t happy about it, though. Adam had tried reassuring him verbally, and when that failed to work, had tried another round of sexual activity on the couch, his lips wrapped around Nigel’s thick and leaking erection. That had sated Nigel for a small handful of hours, but his frustration had popped back up about a half hour ago. That time, he hadn’t waited for Adam to try and soothe him. He’d hauled Adam bodily across the apartment, slung over Nigel’s shoulder like he weighed nothing at all.

And now, they are here, Nigel pressed up against his back, pinning Adam’s bound hands between their body. Nigel had hesitated before wrapping Adam’s wrists in his belt, but in the end, he had not asked for permission. Instead, he’d physically maneuvered Adam exactly how he wanted him, and Adam had been hard even before Nigel had started to stretch him open.

Nigel hadn’t stretched him thoroughly, just quick motions of his fingers that were more of a tease than anything else, never deep enough, never brushing close to where Adam wanted them. Adam had been frustrated by the end of it, squirming face-down on the bed, trying to get enough leverage to fuck himself back on Nigel’s fingers. Nigel had laughed, then, and kept himself just out of reach, no matter how much Adam bucked and writhed.

“Squirmy, greedy little thing,” Nigel had teased, and when he finally, _finally_ slid into Adam, stretching him wider than he was ready for, he’d dropped heavily against his back to stop him from moving any more.

Then, he’d started to move.

Every thrust grazes Adam’s prostate. Every motion is so, so deep. Every inch of him is covered in _Nigel_ , and there are tears in his eyes when he starts to beg.

“Please,” He cries, wriggling beneath Nigel’s heavy weight, desperate to rub himself more thoroughly against the sheets, “Please, touch me.”

Nigel laughs and runs his hands up Adam’s arms, burying one in his hair and tilting his head to suck a bruise into his collar. “I _am_ touching you,” He points out. Adam is unused to being on the receiving end of frustrating literal speech, and he finds he doesn’t like it.”

“Not there,” He complains, voice dropping off into a whine when Nigel bites playfully at the mark he’s made, “I want you to touch my erection.”

“I know where you want me to touch you,” Nigel assures him, slowing his body until each thrust is a slow, agonizing drag. “I’m still not going to.”

Adam lashes out, foot smacking against the bed, the only motion he can fully manage. Nigel laughs against his skin and trails scratches down Adam’s side. “Tantrums aren’t going to get you what you want, baby.”

“It’s not a tantrum,” Adam protests, automatic. “What _will_?”

“Nothing,” Nigel whispers, tugging at Adam’s earlobe with his teeth. “Absolutely nothing. I’m going to take my time with you, darling. You’ll think of me all day tomorrow, when you’re out of my sight. I’m going to be all you can feel.” The next thrusts are punishingly fast, driving Adam up the bed, smacking the frame against the wall. Adam chokes on a moan and tugs fruitlessly against the leather that holds him in place. He can come untouched, he knows he can, especially if Nigel keeps him rubbing against the bed, but he doesn’t _want_ to. He wants Nigel’s hand around him, tugging him over the edge.

But it’s not about what _he_ wants, Adam knows that too. That’s not the deal he made, when he confessed his desires to Nigel. This, as everything, is up to Nigel, and the thought sends Adam spiraling deeper into a haze of pleasure.

Nigel fucks him brutally, hard and fast, and Adam is sure that _this is it_ , he’s going to come, going to spill over himself and the sheets in waves and waves. And then Nigel gets a hand under Adam’s hip and _tugs_ , dragging him up until his cock hangs heavy between his thighs, arched too far to seek relief against the sheets. Adam wails at the unfairness of it all, thrashing in Nigel’s grasp, helpless to pull away, and with no leverage to buck Nigel off. He can feel Nigel smiling against his throat.

“Poor baby,” Nigel teases. “I wouldn’t be keeping my promise if I let you come so easily, would I?”

The words make no sense to Adam. As if he will be able to think of anything else, with the bruises forming on his wrists, with the hickey sucked right into where his tie will tighten. As if Adam ever thinks of anything else at all, lately, when his sick leave has been a haze of orgasms, on the couch and in the shower, sprawled lazily across the bed.

“I want to come,” Adam begs.

“I know you do,” Nigel says, and _pulls out_.

Adam is not a violent person, but he’s pretty sure he wants to hit Nigel. Wants to shove at him until he lands on his back, until Adam can straddle his hips and take what he wants.

But Adam’s hands are still bound tightly, and all he can do is sob his displeasure into the sheets.

“Turn over,” Nigel says, swatting at Adam’s ass for emphasis. For a moment, that’s enough of a distraction. Adam moans into the bed, and it takes another swat to remind him that he’s supposed to be listening. He flips over onto his back, arms twisted almost painfully beneath him. Nigel is a mess above him, sweaty, hair mussed, a heavy flush sprawling down his throat and across his chest. Adam can’t imagine he looks much tidier, though Nigel growls at the sight of him.

“Fucking _gorgeous,_ ” He says, trailing kisses down Adam’s chest, diverting to nip and suck at a nipple, already tight and sensitive just from rubbing against the bed. Adam whines and arches his back, seeking more.

“You can’t just _stop_ ,” He says, and it is absolutely the wrong thing to say, given the way Nigel’s grin turns feral.

“Can’t I?” Nigel murmurs, meandering his way over to the other nipple, tugging hard enough to make Adam cry out. “You said I could do what I wanted, darling.”

“I said that yesterday,” Adam points out, “When you asked me if I minded if you skipped the mac & cheese.”

Nigel rolls his eyes and grins up at Adam. “That wasn’t the only time you said it, was it?”

“No,” Adam mutters, petulant and aroused beyond belief.

“And have you changed your mind?”

“No…” A little softer, this time. Adam relaxes his body with a sigh. Gives in to what Nigel is asking of him. Because really, he never had a choice. From the moment he met Nigel, Adam’s life had rearranged. There is no going back now.

“Good.” Nigel surges up, hard and fast, gripping Adam’s legs by the knees and folding him in half, pressing so tight that Adam’s hips lift up from the bed, all leverage gone as Nigel fucks back into him.

Adam can’t move, can’t arch into the motion, can barely even _breathe_. Each thrust rocks his entire body with it, until they are in constant motion, until Adam cries out higher and higher on each thrust.

“You want to come, Adam?” Nigel asks, and it’s a _stupid_ question, but Adam can’t seem to find the words to tell him that.

“Yes,” is what comes out instead, “Yes, Nigel, please, _please_ let me come.”

“What if I don’t?” Nigel whispers. “What if I ask you to wait? _Tell_ you to wait, leave you hard and wanting, aching all through the night, all through work tomorrow, still waiting for my permission, waiting for me to pick you up and take you home and fuck you right there in the hallway, still begging me to let you come?”

And that, of course, is all it takes. Just the thought of it, of the constant reminder of _Nigel_ , something solid and real to focus on when his day was too stressful, something to keep in his mind, to linger there when he needed to reach out and ground himself with just one, steady thought.

Nigel pushes in, folds Adam so far that his spine aches with it, and Adam comes. And comes, and comes, and _comes_ , a rush of shockwaves, constant, pushing him higher with every thrust. Adam feels like he’s floating, like he’s lost himself entirely, like his orgasm will never stop.

“Fucking…” Whatever else Nigel says is lost on Adam, a haze of Romanian curses muffled against Adam’s mouth as he spills over inside Adam’s twitching body. Adam kisses back almost lazily, too fuzzy to properly respond, a haze of sensation, pleasure and contentment and the feeling of everything being _right_.

“Fucking gorgeous, Adam,” Nigel says, when he finally catches his breath, “A fucking _masterpiece,_ that’s what you are.” He wipes Adam clean with a warm, damp washcloth, then rolls him onto his stomach and releases his wrists. Adam can barely move, barely even notices. He still feels far away, nuzzling into the sheets and stretching his arms above his head. Behind him, Nigel crawls into bed, wrapping around Adam’s back and massaging tension from his arms. “Did you like that? Should we try it again?”

“Mm-hmm,” Adam hums in agreement, words beyond him, everything beyond him but the soft, warm comfort of his bed, of being wrapped up together.

\-----  
_Can’t wait to see you today! I’m glad you’re feeling better, I’ve missed you!_

Adam stares down at the text, accompanied by Gabi’s smiling selfie, and his heart hammers in his chest. He had forgotten, until now, mere minutes before his lunch break, what it would mean to go out with Gabi.

_Don’t go out without me_. A command. A _rule_. Adam has never liked breaking rules. He has never been one for lies, or deceit.

But they eat lunch together. Adam and Gabi at the café, every day around noon. They’re well-known by the staff. Adam tried a pastry, a few days before he was mugged, and the woman who worked behind the counter had _hugged_ him (He hadn’t liked that at all, actually, but she was gone before he could complain, and it hadn’t seemed worth it to follow her).

They eat lunch together every day, and Gabi would be expecting him. But Nigel wouldn’t like it. He had promised Adam could still go where he wanted, if he let Nigel accompany him, but Nigel was busy during the day, and Adam did not want to be trailed by any of the bouncers or bartenders he’d seen in the club. He didn’t know them, he didn’t want them in his space.

A few taps, and Nigel’s picture stared up at him. Nigel would come, if Adam called. He would drop whatever he was doing and pick Adam up, and would probably sit down the street at a different shop entirely, if Adam told him he wanted time alone with Gabi. But Adam didn’t want to ask that of him. By some miracle, Nigel had yet to realize what a burden Adam could be, and Adam didn’t want to push his luck.

Adam tries to tell himself that, technically, Nigel knows he eats lunch with Gabi every day. Technically, Nigel should have been more specific if he didn’t want to go.

Adam is not oblivious enough for any of these technicalities to reassure him. Nigel had been specific enough. _I don’t want you to go out without me, anymore._ Not ‘don’t go out alone.’ Not simply ‘don’t leave the apartment without me,’ although he’d said that too. Nigel had sealed all the loopholes.

But Adam couldn’t ditch Gabi, and really, Nigel probably assumed he was going to go anyway, and it wasn’t like Nigel was going to notice. Adam had no work friends to let things slip, and Gabi didn’t know Nigel. It wasn’t lying if he didn’t say anything, and of _course_ Adam would tell the truth if Nigel asked. Really, it was _fine_.

Adam told himself all these things, but guilt still ate at him when he left the building for lunch.

\-----  
The best part about Adam letting Nigel do this… Well, the best part was having someone willing to do what Nigel told them, to indulge Nigel’s possessiveness even when Nigel himself knew he’d gone too far. But the _second_ best part was having an excuse to rearrange his work hours and ditch Darko in the middle of a heated argument with one of their suppliers.

“You expect me to make him _walk_ home?” He’d said, putting every ounce of offense he could manage into his tone, “Alone? After what happened? You would traumatize him like that?”

Darko had rolled his eyes. “I have not met your boy- “

“Thank god for small miracles.”

“-I have not met your boy _yet_ ,” Darko had growled, irritated by the interruption, “But from what you tell me, it would take more than a petty little squabble to traumatize him.”

“They bruised three of his ribs.”

Darko had waved him off. “In our line of business, that is petty. If you’re so worried, get him a gun.”

_That_ was an idea, one that Nigel had bounced back and forth in his mind, half-formed, uncertain. “Maybe I will. _After_ I drive him home.”

Adam is quiet for the drive home. It worries Nigel. One day in is a bit too early for buyer’s remorse, and Nigel isn’t sure what his response would be if Adam told him he had changed his mind about doing this. Nigel suspects it would be ‘no,’ because the thought of letting Adam out of his sight, still bearing other people’s marks on his skin, is terrifying. And then he really would be the asshole, holding Adam against his will.

But Adam doesn’t bring it up. In fact, he says very little at all, even after they settle into the apartment. He just looks vaguely concerned, until finally, Nigel corners him against the fridge when he tries to fetch his mac and cheese.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, darling?” Nigel whispers, cupping Adam’s cheeks and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. Whatever it is, Nigel will take it. There is a chance he will take it _poorly_ , but he will take it, regardless. Because it’s Adam, his angel, his darling. Gorgeous Adam, with his stunning blue eyes and his eagerness to do absolutely anything Nigel suggests. It wouldn’t be so hard to give up this one bit of control, would it? Not so hard to let Adam out of his sight, right?

( _Wrong_ , whispers the dark little voice in Nigel’s head, the one that would gladly have locked Adam up like a treasure to be hoarded, the one that powers every command, the one that scares Nigel when little else does.)

Adam looks away from him, but that isn’t suspicious in and of itself. Adam can never quite manage to look at Nigel’s face when they are this closely entwined.

Adam seems to consider something, quiet and thoughtful. It floods Nigel with more and more tension, until he wraps an arm around Adam’s waist and tugs him closer, just for something to hold on to.

“I can’t fix it if you won’t tell me about it,” Nigel points out. This earns him a tighter frown, but finally Adam murmurs a response.

“Will you be spending the night? I have work in the morning, and I know you were going to drive me. I let you sleep over last night, because you were upset, but I don’t want you to distract me in the mornings and make me late.”

Nigel can’t help but laugh. All Nigel’s worrying, and _this_ is what Adam was so worried about? He refrains from pointing out that they’d managed to resist a quickie and get out the door on time this morning. Adam is practical to a fault, and so he tends towards preventative measures rather than strictly rational ones. Nigel plans to push the issue eventually, but for now, he is relieved enough to soothe Adam’s concerns.

“I’m sleeping at home,” Nigel promises him. Adam relaxes a little in his arms, but Nigel suspects he doesn’t entirely believe him, given the furrow that lingers between his brows. “I’m just here to make sure you get settled and kiss you goodnight.”

“I’m settled,” Adam points out, seeming a bit more hopeful now. Nigel’s boy loves to be kissed, every way, in every place. Soft, chaste kisses, or deep, biting ones. Adam takes them all with the same eager smile, the one he gives Nigel now.

“Alright, gorgeous, I can take a hint.” Nigel cups Adam’s jaw with one hand and tilts his face up, pressing barely-there pressure to the corner of his mouth. He lingers there for a long moment, gleefully counting the seconds until Adam loses his patience, flinging an arm around Nigel’s shoulders and yanking him into a proper kiss.

Adam may be his good, sweet boy, but he kisses like a slut, eager and damp, nipping at Nigel’s lips the way Nigel has taught him. Nigel barely needs to do anything at all to encourage him; Adam opens up for Nigel like he was made for it, like he would gladly spend all day letting Nigel lick into his mouth and yank at his curls.

But he wouldn’t actually do that. In fact, if Nigel continues to press his luck and linger in Adam’s kitchen, all that’s going to happen is that Adam will get upset. Nigel pulls away with one more lingering brush of lips against Adam’s cheek, sighing softly. “Goodnight, Adam.”

Even though they’re _Adam’s_ rules, Adam looks disappointed to see him go. He watches Nigel fetch his shoes with a small frown, one that doesn’t quite fade when Nigel pecks his lips again in farewell.

Nigel thinks that will be the end of it, and indeed, Adam’s positively _chipper_ when Nigel picks him up at some ungodly hour the next morning. On the way home, however, he’s odd again, too quiet, pensive. He doesn’t say anything, despite gentle- and therefor likely too subtle- prodding on Nigel’s part.

When Adam acts off again on Wednesday, Nigel gets suspicious. By Thursday, he is certain that Adam is hiding something, and worse, he’s figured out what that something is likely to be. An issue he should have seen coming, when Adam never asked him about it or tried to figure out a new plan. There is a part of Nigel that feels guilty that Adam felt he had to go behind Nigel’s back. There is a bigger, angrier part that remembers how readily Adam had agreed, a part that thinks spitefully that Adam should have said something if he didn’t want to do this. And that, if they’re going to do this, they’re going to do it _properly_. Without lies or misdirection.

On Friday, Nigel goes out for lunch.

\-----

Adam has never ‘gotten away’ with something before, not exactly. This is largely because he’s never tried to be sneaky, or underhanded. He does not lie or obfuscate.

Getting away with lunch with Gabi, far from being the joyous excitement his high school peers had implied, only makes Adam feel vaguely nauseous. He dislikes keeping secrets from Nigel, dislikes more the excuses he tells himself to make it okay. He knows it’s not okay. He knows it doesn’t matter that Nigel didn’t _ask_ , that technically, Adam had never told him he _wasn’t_ eating lunch with Gabi. Adam knows that these are just things that liars tell themselves to feel better about lying, and it changes the way he interacts with people. Gabi asks him all the time if he’s okay, and Nigel always seems to be watching him, now.

Given all these facts, Adam should not at all be surprised when Gabi stops mid-sentence to frown at something, just before a heavy weight settles over Adam’s shoulders. He is surprised anyway, startled enough to flinch even as Nigel draws his chair closer to Adam’s, tucking Adam firmly under his arm. Adam does not attempt to get away. He suspects it would only upset Nigel further.

And Nigel is definitely upset. Oh, he’s smiling, broad enough that it frustrates Adam, who believes people’s faces should say exactly what they mean whenever possible, but the grip he has on Adam’s arm is bruising, and under the table, his foot is tapping. Adam, for all his inability to read people, knows what a happy Nigel looks like, and there’s no sign of that here.

Nigel’s irritation is blatant enough for Adam to notice it, and Gabi seems to have caught on as well. She opens her mouth to say something, but before she can, Nigel holds a hand out to her.

“You must be the lovely Gabriella. Adam’s told me so much about you. I’m Nigel, the boyfriend.” All of this is technically true, although Adam feels he hasn’t talked about Gabi _to excess_ , but it does nothing to ease the strange, tight look on Gabi’s face. Nor does Nigel’s gentle tone do anything to soothe Adam. Adam’s heart is a terrified, staccato beat in his chest. He has lied. He has obfuscated, misdirected. He has done everything but be honest with Nigel, and now Nigel _knows_.

Adam wonders, as Gabi holds her hand out to shake, just how angry Nigel is. If this is it. Adam has been waiting to push Nigel too far, and perhaps he finally has. Adam had been _furious_ when Beth had hidden things from him. It is only reasonable that Nigel would have some of that fury as well.

Then, Nigel glances at Adam with a small frown, and his hand comes up from Adam’s shoulder to his neck, thumb rubbing in soothing motions against the side of Adam’s throat. He presses a kiss to Adam’s temple, and Adam relaxes. Nigel is angry, yes, but still willing to give Adam the touches and security he needs. He wouldn’t do that if he was going to leave.

There’s still the question of what he _is_ going to do, but that question can wait until Gabi is no longer staring at them.

“Adam has mentioned you,” Gabi says, slow, as if she is carefully choosing every word, “He did not say you would be joining us.”

“Thought I’d surprise Adam. We don’t get to eat lunch together often.”

“Adam does not like surprises.” Adam cannot help the startled expression that crosses his face. He cannot remember ever mentioning this to Gabi, but it is true, and a pleased little smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. She knows him.

She knows him well enough to still be frowning at Nigel, who shrugs.

“I know he does,” Nigel tells her, “But we’re working on pushing boundaries, aren’t we, darling?”

Gabi’s eyes, still slightly narrowed, flick from Nigel to Adam. Adam, who is still trying to get his pulse back to something more reasonable, makes himself nod.

“I can stay in the main room of Nigel’s strip club long enough to order a soda, now,” He informs her. This does not seem to be as reassuring as he had hoped, but Gabi nods at him.

“Well,” She says slowly, “It’s good to try new things.”

“That’s what Nigel says,” Adam tells her, as if he can somehow force good will between them. Really, they sound a lot like each other when they’ve each taken up the mantle of ‘encouraging Adam.’ He’s surprised that they haven’t immediately launched into a discussion of all the ways they can make Adam be more sociable; Gabi has been holding out hope for the zoo.

“Speaking of trying new things, lunch is on me,” Nigel says, flagging down the waiter, who looks surprised to be summoned to their table after Gabi’s already ordered, something that has never happened before. Gabi attempts to protest, but Nigel winks at her, and her face goes oddly red. Adam looks between them with just the faintest bit of curiosity; He is well aware that Nigel is attractive, but they spend so little time around other people that he’s never seen anyone else take notice before.

Nigel orders himself a sandwich and a glass of water, and manages to talk Gabi into a small, fluffy pastry. He does not try to order something for Adam, but when his food arrives, he puts half on Adam’s plate and gives his thigh a warning tap when Adam tries to give it back. Adam settles, aware that he has pushed far enough for one day.

“Just a taste, gorgeous, it’s the same as the ones I’ve seen you pack, no extra surprises.”

Adam does not point out that he still has half of the one he packed. It is not an excuse that would work on Nigel on a normal day, and this is not a normal day. Nor does he point out that the bread is entirely different, as Nigel already knows most types of bread have found their way to Adam’s safe foods list over the years. Instead, he makes himself take the smallest of bites. It’s not bad, actually. It might even be a bit better than the one Adam packed; the thicker bread does a better job of balancing the filling. But Adam’s stomach is still twisted up in knots, and he doesn’t force another bite.

Nigel looks down at him the entire time, until Adam swallows. He doesn’t _say_ good boy, but he smiles at Adam the same way he usually does when he says it, and that will have to be enough for now. Adam doesn’t particularly feel like a good boy, anyway.

Gabi watches this all with a frown that is not as deep as the one she’d first given Nigel, but not as relaxed as her earlier blush. Adam gives up entirely on placing it. Gabi seems to have more expressions than anyone else he’s ever known, and he doesn’t have the energy to try and interpret them right now.

“So, Miss Gabriella,” Nigel begins. Gabi blinks, jumping as if she’s been startled, although Adam can’t fathom why.

“It’s just Gabi,” She says, and Nigel nods.

“Gabi, then. Adam says you play the cello?”

\-----  
Adam stays quiet during lunch. Nigel expected nothing less. He’d been obedient, at least, still beneath Nigel’s arm, nibbling at his sandwich when Nigel prodded him. Nigel knows he’s already trying to make up for sneaking around, and it does ease a little bit of Nigel’s anger. Not all of it, though. There’s a hint of betrayal, digging into Nigel’s brain with sharp talons. He was not prepared for Adam to be so… _disobedient_. To be honest, he hadn’t entirely thought Adam capable of it; Deception seemed beyond him, with his frank, brutal honesty.

Technically, Nigel’s first instinct had been correct: Adam was so laughably bad at hiding something so huge from Nigel, it was a wonder he’d gotten away with it several days in a row. Nigel should have called him out on it earlier. Would have, if he hadn’t been so busy beating himself up about… Well, about everything that was about to happen.

Nigel walks Adam back to work. His car is nearby, but in the opposite direction, and there’s no point in dragging Adam all the way there for about three block’s worth of driving. A block away from the café, and well out of Gabi’s sight, Adam opens his mouth.

“No,” Nigel says, tugging gently at their clasped hands.

“But- “

“No,” Nigel says again, accompanying it with a stern look that brings a wariness to Adam’s face, “Whatever it is you have to say, it can wait until we’re at home. You don’t work tomorrow, so I’ll be staying the night.”

He doesn’t ask, won’t give Adam the chance to tell him ‘no.’ Adam doesn’t seem like he wants to, regardless. He merely nods his agreement, a small frown crossing his features.

“You’re upset with me.”

“I am,” Nigel agrees, because any sort of placating remark will only confuse Adam.

“I don’t like it when you’re upset with me.”

“I know. But we’ll deal with it at home.”

At that, Adam goes quiet. He doesn’t let go of Nigel’s hand, though. In fact, he clutches it tighter, and when Nigel kisses him goodbye, he seems reluctant to let go.

“Tonight,” Nigel promises, whisper-soft against Adam’s mouth, “We’ll deal with it, and then it will be over.”

\-----  
Nigel is early to pick Adam up from work, idling his car as close to the building as he was able to get. He knows it frustrates Adam, driving such a short distance in crowded streets, but Nigel doesn’t have the patience to walk the distance on a good day. Today is _not_ a good day.

“Don’t say anything,” He warns as Adam buckles his seatbelt, “Take this time to think about _exactly_ what you want to tell me. Think carefully, Adam.”

Adam, thankfully, doesn’t argue. The silence gives Nigel time to think about his own decisions.

There have to be consequences. What’s the point of Adam giving these sorts of decisions to Nigel, if there aren’t consequences for disobeying? But the idea of it, of imposing rules and punishments for infractions, the thought of referring to anything his lover does as _disobedience…_ It scares Nigel, it worries him. But it intoxicates him as well, sinks its fangs into the warm, eager place in his stomach, the place that goes hot and achy when he looks at Adam.

As a child, lying to his mother would have gotten Nigel’s mouth washed out with soap. He wouldn’t dare try that on Adam, though, not on the man who could barely stand most foods, who was so utterly particular about scents and textures. All that would lead to was misery for both of them.

But there was another punishment his mother had used, one she’d reserved for more serious infractions. For times when the trouble Nigel got up to was outright dangerous…

He’d resented it, as a child. Still did, actually. Nigel couldn’t imagine doing it to a kid, himself.

But Adam… When he pictures it, Adam bare-assed over his knee…

Nigel’s gait is stiff on their way up the stairs. He’s grateful for Adam’s distraction; he doesn’t seem to notice that Nigel is hard, or that his hands have begun to tremble.

This is not the sort of thing you do to someone you love. It just isn’t. It’s wrong. It’s disgusting.

_You hit me,_ Adam’s voice echoes in his head, _Are you going to do it again?_

That smile, that goddamn mischievous, eager, _fucking smile._

“We’re going to the bedroom,” Nigel says when the door closes behind him, and Adam only hesitates a moment before he obeys.

\-----  
Nigel shuts the door behind them. The room feels very small to Adam, who has never been claustrophobic before. He still can’t place Nigel’s emotions, a surge of expressions flitting across his face, gone before Adam can match them up with years of careful study.

“Strip,” Nigel says, sitting down on the edge of the bed, “I want everything off.”

Adam frowns, confused. Nothing Nigel has said or done up until now has led him to think they were going to have sex. Still, he listens, stripping off every piece of clothing and dropping it into the basket. He shivers a little; Nigel runs warm and Adam likes to curl up with blankets, so the bedroom is always kept a bit colder than the rest of the apartment.

Nigel’s face, which had settled into a frown and a furrowed brow, softens a bit. “Hey,” He says, leaning forward to try and look Adam in the eyes, “It’s going to be okay. Once we’ve dealt with it, everything will be forgiven.”

Adam nods, hands fidgeting at his side. “I’m sorry?” He offers, honest, but still confused.

Nigel holds out his hand, smiling at him. “Come here, gorgeous.”

Adam expects to be cuddled, given the pet name and the smile. Instead, he’s carefully laid out over Nigel’s lap. It is not a position anyone has ever asked of him before, and although he suspects, _knows_ , where this must be going, he cannot help the way his voice trembles. “Nigel?”

Nigel’s hand comes to rest over the curve of Adam’s ass. Adam doesn’t flinch, but his whole body goes very tense. He _knows_ , and he isn’t sure what to think.

“You know I would have let you go, right?” Nigel asks, “I wouldn’t have told you no. I want you to spend time with Gabi, Adam. I know she’s important to you. I would have been happy to walk you there, or drive you.”

“I didn’t want to be trouble,” Adam says, which is true, but not nearly enough to describe the complicated haze of emotions he’s been experiencing lately.

“But you agreed, didn’t you?” Nigel’s voice drops to a whisper, slow and almost hesitant. “You wanted to do this? You wanted me to make the rules, and you agreed to the rules I made?”

“Yes, Nigel,” Adam whispers back. One of his hands tangles in the leg of Nigel’s jeans. He can’t help himself, he needs to grip something to feel balanced.

“If you agree to the rules, then you agree to the consequences, don’t you think?”

There is a moment of hesitation. Of wary, uncertain fear. From both of them, Adam thinks. Nigel’s hand trembles where it rests against him.

Then, a decision.

“Yes, Nigel.”

Nigel hums. “Alright, then.”

Nigel’s hand pulls away, and for a moment, Adam is adrift, lost, alone.

Then, Nigel smacks him, hard enough that Adam’s entire body jerks forward. The sound of his hand against Adam’s bare skin nearly drowns out Adam’s sharp, startled gasp.

It’s not like before, when Adam had been close to orgasm, flushed with pleasure and flooded with endorphins and all the crossed wires that came with sexual pleasure. This time, it doesn’t feel good. It’s a sharp burst of pain against his skin, and before Adam can properly get his bearings, Nigel’s hand comes down again.

The second time is worse than the first. Adam cries out, and his feet kick against the ground, as if he can shake off the burst of pain. He doesn’t mean to thrash, but he can’t help it. The third strike catches against his thighs instead of his backside, drawing a sob from Adam and a curse from Nigel.

“You’ve got to stay still, baby,” Nigel murmurs, pinning Adam’s legs with one of his own and using his free hand to trap Adam’s wrists against the small of his back, “You’ll hurt yourself if you move like that.” The new positioning props Adam’s ass up higher, but it also gives Adam the heavy feeling that comes with being restrained. When Nigel rubs at the reddening marks across Adam’s skin, Adam settles into the touch with a small whimper.

“There we go,” Nigel whispers, and though he still sounds slightly off to Adam, his hand comes down again. “Just let me finish up, and everything will be forgiven.”

This time, Adam cries out, but does not move. He lets Nigel hold him in place, as the blows come down again and again.

It hurts. Adam can’t pretend it doesn’t, can’t ignore the shock he feels. And it’s not that he likes pain, not particularly. But he’d felt so guilty, earlier, and now… Now all he can think about is Nigel’s hands on him, trapping his wrists, drawing out sobs and squeaks from Adam’s lips.

It hurts, it _hurts_ , but Adam feels so… _good._ He will ache tomorrow. He will turn to check himself out in the mirror and see a flood of bruises on his skin, and he will know that everything is okay now. That Nigel will take care of things, that Nigel is always going to take care of things, even if Adam hurts him. They will be okay.

Adam isn’t entirely sure when he starts crying. It seems to happen in an instant, one minute he is enduring the pain, the next his sobs grow higher with every new spot Nigel finds to land his blows. When Nigel finally stops, rubbing over Adam’s ass and thighs with gentle touches, it takes Adam a while to even _notice_.

Adam is hard. It’s a bit surprising. He cannot say he didn’t _like_ the spanking, if only for the absolution it offered, but he would not say anything about it was sexually arousing. But Adam is hard, and, with a rush of relief, he realizes Nigel is too. Adam doesn’t have the energy or the desire to do anything about it, but at least he’s not alone.

\-----  
By the end of it all, Adam is a mess across Nigel’s lap, squirming and whining in a way that sends heat through Nigel’s body. He sounds the same when he’s being punished as he does when he’s being fucked, shaky little moans and cries that make Nigel want to flip him over and push his way inside.

He can’t though. He can barely move at all, except to release Adam’s wrists and rub soothing circles over his skin. Adam is red all over, but there are some places that are already darkening into painful-looking bruises. He won’t sit right for days. Nigel feels nauseous.

Nigel lets himself fall backwards onto the bed, drawing Adam with him until Adam is carefully draped across Nigel’s chest, held tight and safe. Nigel can’t find the words to apologize. All he can do is stare at Adam’s tear-soaked face with growing dread and hold him tight while he cries.

There’s no going back from this. There is no recovery from leaving purple bruises across the skin of someone you love.

Slowly, Adam’s tears dry up. Nigel murmurs sweet praises into Adam’s curls, tells him how good he is, how beautiful. He tries to find the strength to leave, to set Adam free.

He doesn’t have that strength.

“Baby,” He whispers, when they’ve finally fallen into silence. Adam looks up at him, brow furrowed, thoughtful.

“Adam…” Nigel tries again, and gets no further this time. “Adam, I…”

“I think you should move in with me.” Adam says, and fucking _smiles._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Heyyyyy remember those really iffy consent issues we have talked about? This chapter contains an under-negotiated (as in, not negotiated at all) punishment scene, between two people who have never discussed punishment, and _do not have a safeword._ Adam is totally fine by the end of it! Nigel... Is not. Adam finds it cathartic! Nigel... has some concerns. They continue to not communicate any of these things to each other. I swear I'm going somewhere with that.
> 
> Adam has some nervousness in this chapter that is meant to be about the fact that he is lying/sneaking around. He is NOT afraid of Nigel, himself, but I'm well aware it could read that way to people who are uncomfortable with such things, and so I wanted to warn people just in case.
> 
> On a more mild note, this chapter also contains mild bondage and very slight orgasm control (also not negotiated but well-received. LEARN TO USE YOUR WORDS, BOYS.). Plus, ass-swatting of a more playful variety. 
> 
> So, discussions: I fucking love Adam as a bratty, demanding sub. I really do. 
> 
> Gabi has some concerns, as she well should. You would have some concerns too, if your bff looked momentarily _horrified_ when their lover showed up unexpectedly. We have not seen the last of Gabi's concerns.
> 
> The spanking. I promise, I _promise_ they will eventually learn to communicate. We aren't quite there yet, but it's coming. As of right now, I can only assure you that Adam is happy with what went down. It hurt, but he is one of those people who finds punishment to be therapeutic. He probably wouldn't want Nigel to just hit him without any sexual or disciplinary context, but he enjoys the catharsis. This is _technically_ consensual, but basically, don't use these two as a model for your kinky interactions with others.
> 
> Next time! Uh... I have a plan, believe it or not, but I haven't yet figured out where the chapter break is going. So. Next time. A discussion about moving in, sex of some sort, and Nigel probably has another existential crisis.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where things go wrong a lot. Then they get better. Also, the plot finally

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very late edit: Warnings I forgot about can be found in the end notes

Adam is aching. His face is red and raw from crying, the uncomfortable feeling of drying salt-water settling in across his cheekbones. His butt hurts. It feels like a burst of heat radiating outwards, up over the cheeks and down, just over the tops of his thighs.

He’s still half hard, the stiffening length of his erection pressed up against Nigel’s hipbone. Nigel cards a hand through Adam’s hair, stares down at him with wide eyes. Adam can’t place his expression. The closest he can come up with is ‘frightened,’ and as that can’t possibly be right, he gives up guessing entirely.

“What?” Nigel whispers.

“You should move in with me,” Adam reiterates patiently. “You would have to move here, though. You said your apartment is not very big. We could try getting a new one, but I don’t want to have to pack again, it’s very stressful.” He shifts closer, hiding a hiss in Nigel’s neck at the flare-up of pain. He can feel Nigel opening and closing his mouth a few times before he finally settles on something to say.

“Baby,” Nigel begins, rubbing at Adam’s shoulders, “You would hate that.”

Adam frowns against Nigel’s collarbone. “No, I wouldn’t,” He says.

“You make me leave every night so that I won’t interrupt your work routine.”

“If you lived here, we could have sex all the time,” Adam points out, “And then you wouldn’t feel the need to have sex so early in the morning, and I could continue my routine.”

“We couldn’t have Mac & Cheese every night,” Nigel says, “And you’d have less space for your things, and you wouldn’t always get to pick what was on TV. I might be messy, or I might forget to do things in the order you’re used to doing them. It’s a big change, Adam.”

“It would be difficult,” Adam agrees, “But I would adjust, eventually. And then you would be here, all the time.”

“Yes, Adam. All the time. No more time to yourself, not really. I’d be here when you woke up and when you went to bed, at every meal, and you _know_ I’ll want to shower with you.”

Adam leans back, frowning up at Nigel. “Do you not want to move in with me?”

Nigel shakes his head frantically, cupping Adam’s cheek with one hand. “No, darling, of course I do.”

Adam grins and curls back into place. “Then it’s settled.”

There is a moment of silence as Nigel thinks about that, and then Nigel begins to laugh, his shoulders shaking beneath Adam’s cheek.

“You just get whatever you want, don’t you gorgeous?”

“Usually,” Adam agrees, closing his eyes, “I think you enjoy it.”

“I’m going to have to be less easy when we live together. Can’t have you getting spoiled.”

“Probably,” Adam says sleepily, tucking his face in between Nigel’s shoulder and the pillow. “Or else you’ll eat a lot of mac and cheese.”

Nigel snickered. “True enough.”

“And,” Adam added in a drowsy mumble, “If you lived here, you could hit me more.”

Nigel didn’t say anything in response to that, but his arms tightened around Adam, a heavy, firm grip that lulled Adam ever closer to sleep.

\-----

Nigel moves in over the next few days. He wishes he could say he’s surprised, but he isn’t. As it turns out, there’s not a damn thing he wouldn’t do to keep a smile on Adam’s face, even if the things he’s doing are actually horrible for Adam.

Adam walks stiffly for the first day, hissing and wincing when he sits down. It tugs violently at Nigel’s chest, each and every time. The bruises heal fast, though; there is only so much damage a bare hand can do. By the time Nigel drops his old keys off with Darko, there’s not a mark on Adam’s smooth skin. Adam, frankly, could stand to look a little happier about it.

“I thought they would last longer,” He tells Nigel in the shower, pouting like a child who’s opened a Christmas present to find socks. Nigel’s head is spinning. He can’t keep up with Adam, not when he seems disappointed that Nigel hasn’t _injured him_ recently.

Nigel wonders, for a moment, if it’s that thing he’s read about, that Stockholm thing. Then Adam gets a hand around Nigel’s soft cock, and Nigel can’t wonder about anything.

“You have work!” He yelps, reaching for Adam’s wrist. Adam grins up at him, looking much too pleased with himself as he shakes Nigel off.

“Didn’t I tell you that the lab was closing for a three day weekend? Renovations.”

He didn’t, Nigel is sure he didn’t. Nigel gapes at him, at the slick slide of water down his chest.

“You naughty little-“ He muffles whatever filthy thing he was tempted to say against Adam’s soft lips. Adam yields to him immediately, succumbing to the heat of the kiss.

“I’m not sure I like you keeping so many secrets,” Nigel whispers, licking a path down Adam’s damp throat. He means it to be teasing, but Adam stiffens at the reminder of the Gabi Incident.

Nigel has someone tail Adam to the café every day now, because he doesn’t hate himself enough to risk Adam’s life, and though Adam is well aware of it, he still looks vaguely guilty whenever Gabi comes up. Nigel presses an apologetic kiss to Adam’s shoulder. Adam surely misses the nuance of it, but he relaxes into Nigel’s arms anyway.

“I won’t keep anything else from you,” Adam promises.

“Good.”

They stay like that for a minute, wrapped up in each other’s arms, quiet. Then…

“If I do,” Adam asks, “Will you hit me again?” He doesn’t tremble, doesn’t shake. There is no fear in his voice.

Nigel feels nauseous. “Don’t keep things from me, baby,” He whispers, in lieu of an actual answer.

Adam leans back to look him in the eye, frowning. “Nigel… You can, if you want to. If I lie to you again.”

They’re both broken, Nigel thinks, they must be. Because Adam, as far as he can tell, is _asking_ to be hit. And Nigel… Nigel wants to give it to him.

For now, he presses Adam back against the wall of the shower. Adam yelps and squirms, uncomfortable, against the cold tile, and Nigel sinks to his knees.

“Don’t come,” Nigel warns, before wrapping his lips around the head of Adam’s cock.

“Nigel!” Adam gasps.

Nigel doesn’t do this enough, not nearly. Adam throws his head back hard enough that Nigel almost worries, but then a hand sinks into his hair, clinging and desperate and, well, Nigel can’t pull away. Not when Adam is so eager for him, hips rolling, no trace of shyness or hesitance. He pushes into Nigel’s mouth as much as Nigel will allow, and for a while, Nigel allows a lot. He lets Adam fuck into his mouth until he starts to whimper, until the hand in Nigel’s hair grows almost painful, and then Nigel pulls off.

“ _Nigel_ ,” Adam says again, nearly a whine. His hands clutch uselessly at Nigel, one still in his hair, the other digging nails into his shoulder.

Nigel licks at a small bead of fluid welling up at the tip, just one flick of his tongue, but it’s enough to rip a moan from Adam. Adam pants for breath, staring down at him with hazy eyes.

“Nigel, please…” He begs. Nigel grins up at him.

“Don’t come,” Nigel repeats, and swallows him down again.

He wonders how long he can hold Adam here, on the edge. Nigel varies in his torments, licking his way down to the base, turning to suck a mark into the crease of Adam’s thigh. Adam squirms and pleads through it all, little whispers of Nigel’s name, moans that have Nigel rocking into his own hand.

“I can’t,” Adam finally says, tugging at Nigel’s hair. Nigel swallows around him in punishment, until Adam lets go and trembles under Nigel’s mouth. Only once Adam gives himself back over to Nigel does Nigel take pity on him and pull off. The water is starting to run cold, and Adam is trembling.

“You can,” Nigel tells him, “Because I want you to, right, baby?”

Adam swallows, looks down at him. His eyes are wide, pupils blown. It takes him a long moment to respond. “Yes, Nigel.”

Nigel pulls him away from the wall to deliver a playful swat to his butt, the gentle kind he’s given to many a lover, not the harsh bruises of before. Adam shudders anyway, a full-body roll like Nigel’s done something amazing.

“Go towel off and lie down on the bed, then,” Nigel tells him, climbing to his feet and turning the water off, “On your stomach.”

Adam hesitates, glancing down at his feet.

“What is it, gorgeous?” Nigel cups his chin gently, guiding Adam’s gaze back to his face.

“Can I dry my hair first?” Adam asks sheepishly. Nigel tries not to laugh at his earnest expression.

“Are you going to have a panic attack if I say no?”

Adam’s eyes glance away again. “No,” He finally admits, “But I would prefer it.”

“Not today, angel,” Nigel tells him, swatting him again, a little harder this time. Adam’s eyes flutter closed, and he draws his lower lip between his teeth. Nigel wants to devour him.

So, he will.

Nigel is brisk with the towel, trailing after Adam, eager. He’s hard already, just from Adam’s little whimpers, and the thought of what’s coming.

He’s done it before, of course, because Nigel has tried just about everything a partner has suggested to him, but never with Adam. He drapes himself over Adam’s back, pinning him to the bed and pressing deep, sucking kisses to his neck. Adam whines and thrusts down against the sheets, desperate little jerks of his hips that usually don’t come until after Nigel’s fucked him into the mattress.

“You close, baby?” Nigel whispers, nipping at Adam’s shoulder and trailing kisses down his back.

“Yeah,” Adam moans, “Don’t tease.”

“Who makes the decisions around here?” Nigel whispers against the curve of Adam’s ass.

“You do, Ni- WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

In retrospect, surprise rimming was probably a mistake. Draped over Adam’s legs, Nigel has nowhere to go when Adam thrashes, jerking beneath him, bucking him off with flailing limbs that smack right into the heavy weight of Nigel’s balls. Nigel flops off the bed with a graceless, pained groan.

For a moment, all Nigel felt was the pain. He was dimly aware of Adam’s wide, startled eyes peering at him from over the edge of the bed, but all Nigel could do was fold in on himself and groan.

\-----

As much as Adam hates to admit it, Nigel was right. Nigel is often right, but Adam is learning not to alert him every time it happens. He’s already much too cocky. Darko, in the brief moments Adam has met him in passing, has warned Adam not to inflate Nigel’s ego any further, or else ‘his head will roll right off his shoulders.’

This is, of course, a metaphor, and a particularly uncomfortable one, but Adam was able to get the general idea.

Still, Nigel was right: Moving in together is _hard_.

There’s _stuff_ everywhere. Nigel keeps bringing up the idea of a bigger apartment, but Adam likes his _current_ apartment, at least he did before Nigel brought all his _stuff_.

Clothes in the closet, in the dresser, on the floor around the hamper because Nigel can never quite get them in the basket.

Dishes in the sink, mugs on the counter. Adam hates the taste of coffee. He likes the smell, but the machine clutters up the counter and Nigel spills his grounds a lot.

An ash tray on the balcony, cigarette butts filling it up.

Nigel is not exactly _messy_ , per se. These are all little things, and he’s quick to tidy before it gets too out of hand. But he doesn’t seem to feel the need to clean things up _immediately_ , and Adam… Adam does.

And that’s just the stuff. There are sounds, too. New TV shows, outside of the allotted time, in a language Adam doesn’t speak. Nigel, humming off key as he brushes his teeth. Muffled cursing when he stubs his toe in the dark in the middle of the night, jolting Adam awake.

Another person in his bed, which has been nice up until now, but Adam is slowly realizing he will never sleep alone again.

Little things. Such little, little things, they shouldn’t bother him at all. And maybe they wouldn’t, if work was not so stressful, if Nigel didn’t come home with a dark look on his face most nights because he still couldn’t find Adam’s muggers, if Adam wasn’t waiting on new credit cards, if if if.

Everything adds up, trickling down over and over until Adam can’t breathe, until he feels like he’s spinning out.

It happens almost out of the blue. One minute, Adam is fine. He’s frustrated, of course he is, because Nigel has missed the laundry basket _again_ , or maybe the shirt just fell out of it, and he’s tired because work was awful _again,_ but he’s doing fine, he’s doing great, _fantastic,_ even, right up until he trips over Nigel’s shoes on his way out of the bedroom, banging his shoulder against the doorframe, and then it’s just too much. His frustration slams at his skull, thudding in his head, everything hurts, everything is spinning.

Adam yells, wordless and loud, grabbing the nearest thing and throwing it. He’d gotten better, for a while, at throwing soft things, but today he doesn’t care about soft things. Nigel’s shoe bounces off the dresser, sends a model of the space shuttle Discovery toppling to the ground. Adam tugs at his hair, smacks his fist against the wall, and when that doesn’t work, pulls his head back and smacks that against it instead.

“Hey! Hey, stop that!”

Nigel’s voice filters in, a wave of too-loud in Adam’s crowded, noisy head. Heavy hands land on his shoulder; Adam bats at them with a shriek.

“Don’t touch me!” Adam yells, knocking his head back against the wall again, “Don’t touch me, you’re hurting me.”

“You’re hurting yourself,” Nigel growls, dragging Adam against his chest. Adam flails at him ineffectively, shoving at Nigel’s sturdy chest.

“Let go! Let go, I hate you! I hate you, I hate your stupid shirts and your shoes! Leave me alone!”

Adam never means these things, when he says them. He knows he doesn’t, even as they tumble from his lips. He can still remember his dad’s face, open and hurting every time, even though he knew that Adam didn’t mean it.

But sometimes everything is loud, and Adam just wants it to go away. And if he says the right thing, the right combination of words, maybe everything will stop. Everything will be quiet.

“Okay, that’s enough of that.” Nigel pins Adam’s hands to his side, dragging him across the bedroom. Adam shrieks his outrage, clutching and tugging at his own hair until the pain might drown him out.

Nigel has a kit. Adam has seen it, although he never pokes too far into it. It’s for ‘work,’ for the things Nigel does that they both know Adam knows about, but which neither of them ever brings up. Now, Nigel drags it along to the corner with them, pressing Adam bodily into the corner of the room and wrapping a pair of handcuffs around his wrists.

The cuffs are not made for comfort, but between them and the weight of Nigel’s body, Adam can’t get enough leverage to do any real damage to his wrists. He whines, squirming against Nigel, wanting to be free, wanting not to be free. Nigel is hot and heavy against his back, like a breathing version of his weighted blanket. Adam is already starting to sooth when Nigel presses the cloth between his teeth.

“Shh,” Nigel whispers against his hair, pressing over Adam’s shoulder until they are cheek to cheek, “Shh, baby, it’s alright. I’ve got you.”

Adam whines, tugs at his wrists just to feel that he’s not going anywhere. Everything is still spinning, but now he cannot fight, cannot scream and curse and yell. Cannot say the things he doesn’t mean, the things that hurt him to say almost as much as they hurt to hear.

It takes several long minutes for Adam to calm down. Nigel stays pressed up against him for each and every one of them, cooing softness in his ears, gentle little murmurs, sweet promises of how much he adores Adam. Adam shivers under the attention, relaxes inch by inch against the wall.

“There we go,” Nigel murmurs, when all the tension has finally fled Adam’s body, “There’s my good boy.”

Adam whimpers in response. He does not feel like a good boy. He feels like a mess, like a nightmare of a partner. The things he says, when he’s hurting…

And Nigel, perfect Nigel, knows exactly what Adam needs. Sometimes, he knows Adam better than Adam knows himself.

“I think I’m going to leave you here,” Nigel tells him. “Just for a few minutes, some time to calm down. We’re going to need some new rules, darling. If you’re going to be a danger to yourself, you’ll end up here every time, deal?”

Adam closes his eyes. His limbs feel heavy, and he braces himself against the wall. It feels good to smack his fists against his skin, to pull his hair and crack his head against the wall. But it also feels good to be blanketed by Nigel’s body, to have his hands bound and his mouth occupied. The cloth is soaked in Adam’s mouth; He swallows and sighs. Nods, just once.

“Good boy,” Nigel says again, and Nigel never lies to Adam, so it must be true. Nigel presses a kiss to Adam’s cheek and then his warmth is gone.

For a moment, Adam is lost, adrift. But the handcuffs are still Nigel’s, the cloth between his teeth was still placed there by Nigel, and so Adam cannot feel completely abandoned. He keeps his eyes closed and his face pressed to the wall, and he drifts.

Later, Nigel massages feeling back into Adam’s hands, Adam cradled in his lap. “Those were some nasty things you said, baby,” He whispers.

“I don’t hate you,” Adam whispers back, still bleary-eyed, still fuzzy. Meltdowns are exhausting, and Nigel has coddled him so well.

Nigel presses a kiss to his hair. “I know, darling, I know. You were just overwhelmed. But there will be consequences, next time you say something like that, won’t there?”

“Yes, Nigel,” Adam says with a happy, sleepy hum.

\-----  
“I met someone,” Gabi tells Adam over lunch. She smiles, wide and easy to understand. Adam mimics it. He likes when Gabi smiles. It’s bright and pretty, and it means she’s happy. Gabi deserves to be happy.

“At the orchestra?” Adam asks.

Gabi laughs and shakes her head. “No, in the street. He is American, like you, but from Chicago.”

“I’ve never been to Chicago,” Adam says with a shrug, “America’s very large.”

“Much larger than Romania,” Gabi agrees. “He has been to New York City, though. He says he likes it after dark. The city that never sleeps.”

As a New Yorker, Adam has heard that expression too many times to not understand it, but he still dislikes it. Everybody sleeps. “I like it after dark too,” Adam says, “You can’t see very many stars, but Central Park is very nice at night.”

“I would love to see Central Park,” Gabi says, “Charlie says it is very large.”

“Charlie?”

“The boy I met,” Gabi explains, “His name is Charlie. I am going to see him again tonight.”

Adam tilts his head and tries to interpret her meaning. “Is he sexually attractive?” He finally asks, because Gabi is much more forthcoming about these details than other people Adam has known over the years.

Gabi smiles, a different smile than her happy one. This one is a little quirk of her lips, a wrinkle of her nose. “Very,” She says, and grins down into her drink. “He has very nice arms. And a nice butt. He could use a haircut, perhaps, but-“ Adam shifts to reach his drink and his sleeve slides up. Gabi stops mid-sentence to stare at Adam’s wrists.

Nigel had not allowed him to struggle too much, but Adam had still pulled at the restraints, just to feel them hold him. His wrists are reddened, lightly bruised from the bite of the handcuffs. Adam blushes and yanks his sleeves back down.

“I had a bad night,” He explains, fidgeting with his lunch. Gabi frowns, a crease drawing tight between her eyes. She reaches out and grabs his hand.

“Adam,” She says softly, “You know you can talk to me about anything, right? Anything at all?”

Adam looks down at their hands, her small, soft one clutching his big, calloused one. Her nail polish glitters in the light. He’s always been distracted by glitter.

“Of course,” He tells her, frowning. Gabi watches him for a long moment, quiet, but Adam doesn’t know what she’s waiting for.

“Okay,” She finally says, “I just wanted you to know.”

\-----

Nigel can always tell when Adam is frustrated. He telegraphs it to the world around him. For someone who struggles to comprehend most emotions, Adam wears his own on his sleeves.

And Adam is frustrated, although Nigel isn’t entirely sure why. He’s done his best to keep his boy happy, making sure his laundry is put away, his ash tray is regularly cleaned. Adam has even started to relax his iron grip on their sex life, easily coaxed into moments of intimacy on a work night, so long as Nigel doesn’t keep him up too late.

Nigel can’t tell at all what’s bothering Adam, when he has everything he could want, and it all comes to a head one evening at the dinner table.

“You haven’t hit me in a while.”

Nigel chokes on a mouthful of lasagna. Adam had dutifully swallowed a single bite, looked surprisingly pleased at the taste, and then had promptly returned to his own mac and cheese. Now, he frowned and set his fork down.

“Are you alright, Nigel?”

“Fine,” Nigel mutters, smacking a fist against his own chest.

“Okay. Then you should hit me tonight.”

Nigel tries and fails to wrap his head around this request. He frowns down at his food, fist clenched around his fork.

“You used to hit me all the time,” Adam continues, as if he isn’t saying something completely baffling. “Now you don’t. Not even during sex.”

“And that’s… Something you want,” Nigel clarifies. Adam nods, smiling.

“I find your punishments to be cathartic, and sexually stimulating.” Nigel can’t help a returning smile of his own, though the word ‘punishment’ still sticks in his throat, sour and hard to swallow. Beautiful, confusing boy.

“You haven’t done anything worth punishing,” Nigel points out, heard thudding. Adam frowns, thinks that over.

“Okay,” He says, and swipes his silverware off the table. His fork skitters off towards the refrigerator. Adam stares at Nigel expectantly.

It’s such a silly little thing. Of course, Adam would view a minor bit of chaos as something worthy of punishment. Nigel can’t help but laugh. “Alright, kitty, you ‘ve made your point.”

Adam frowns, looking from Nigel to the mess. “I’m not a cat, Nigel.

Nigel stands up from his chair and drags Adam with him, hoisting him over his shoulder. Adam yelps and squirms, until Nigel settles him with a firm swat to his ass. “Whatever you say, darling.”

If Adam wants to be spanked, Nigel will indulge him. He strips them both and lays back on the bed, pulling Adam into his lap. Adam fits against him perfectly, straddling his thighs with an eager grin. He always smiles like that when he’s getting exactly what he wants. Nigel swats a hand against his thigh, gentle to start.

“I want you to open yourself up for me, baby.”

Adam frowns. “I like it better when you do it.”

Nigel pulls Adam forward with a gentle hand in his curls, until his back is arched, and Nigel can land a blow to the soft curve of his ass. “I’m giving you something you want,” He whispers, nipping at the lobe of Adam’s ear, “Now you give me something I want. Fair’s fair, right, gorgeous?”

Adam closes his eyes, grinding down against Nigel’s thickening cock. “Yes, Nigel.”

“There’s a good boy.”

Adam takes the lube when it’s offered, and then stalls out. Nigel always opens him up with gentle, searching fingers, but he’s not sure how much Adam has played around with himself. Enough not to look completely lost, as he slicks up his own fingers, but he’s clearly displeased with the texture of the cool lubricant. Adam straightens up in Nigel’s lap, raising himself up on trembling thighs and reaching a hand back behind him.

Nigel can tell exactly when he works the first finger in. Adam always gets a slightly pinched look on his face at the first nudge, followed by a tiny little roll of his hips, trying to get whatever it is deeper inside himself. He was made to be fucked, really, born for it. The sounds he makes, the way his body rolls. Porn doesn’t even compare. Nigel makes a mental note to buy a video camera, so he can show Adam exactly what he looks like when he gets like this.

Adam lets out a frustrated whine, arching his back to get his fingers deeper. “I don’t like it,” He insists, even as his aroused flush spreads down his chest. Nigel thrusts his hips up, rubbing their erections together and jostling the fingers inside Adam. Adam whines, high and soft.

“Again,” Adam demands, rutting down against him. Nigel grins, scraping his nails down Adam’s back.

“Soon, baby. Get yourself nice and open and I’ll fuck into you so good.”

Adam’s eyes flutter shut. Nigel traces a hand over his ass, coming around to feel where Adam is stretching himself open with three fingers. Nigel waits until Adam starts to pant before carefully nudging one of his own fingers into the fray.

Adam shudders, a motion that ripples through his whole body. He’s not as stretched as Nigel can get him, but he’s hot and open, fluttering around their combined fingers, clenching on every inward thrust. Nigel uses his free hand to smack his ass and feel the way he tenses around them.

“Ready, gorgeous?”

“Ready,” Adam mimics, “Ready, ready, _please, Nigel_.”

“Shh…” Nigel slides his hand away and rolls the condom on. He reaches back and tugs Adam’s wrist away, until he’s shivering from the emptiness. “I’ve got you. Go ahead and drop, sweet boy.”

Adam lowers himself onto Nigel’s cock in slow, trembling motions. Little rocks of his hips, tiny gasps. He’s fully seated on Nigel’s hips when Nigel smacks him again.

“Ohhh…” Adam moans. Nigel gets a handful of his curves, trailing his fingers over the place where they’re joined.

“Move,” Nigel demands, “Move, or I’ll stop.”

Adam moves.

It’s not that Nigel isn’t still wary of this terrifying thing they’ve done. It’s that he can’t bring himself to care, when ever new blow has Adam tightening around him. Adam rocks in his lap, rewarded with another sharp spank every time he sinks down to take Nigel all the way into his body. He’s flushed and sweating, rock hard, cock bouncing against Nigel’s body as he moves.

“Tell me how it feels,” Nigel whispers after another swat. Adam frowns, closes his eyes and shakes his head. Nigel frowns and grabs Adam’s hips, forcing him down and holding him still until Adam starts to whine in protest. “Tell me, Adam.” Adam’s mouth opens and closes, wordless. Nigel, achingly aroused and barely thinking straight, smacks him lightly across the face.

Adam gasps, clenching tight around Nigel’s cock. A dribble of fluid bubbles up at the head of his cock, damp and painfully red. Adam looks at him, wide eyed.

Eager.

“Hurts,” Adam gasps, rolling his hips as much as he can in Nigel’s tight grasp. “Hurts, and it’s hot, but it’s so good, Nigel, do it again.”

Nigel hesitates only a second before he backhands him, still gentle, wary of leaving marks. Hard enough that Adam’s head turns, though, and Adam fucks back onto him in desperate motions.

“Again,” Adam demands.

“Last one,” Nigel warns, and puts some force into it this time. His hand cracks against Adam’s skin, leaving a red splotch over his cheekbone. Adam gasps and whines and comes, one hand wrapped around his cock, stroking himself through it as he rides Nigel in desperate motions.

“Fucking… God fucking _damn it_ , Adam!” Nigel rolls them both, fucking into Adam, chasing his pleasure as Adam’s body clutches at him. He can feel Adam’s orgasm like his own, and it coaxes Nigel over the edge.

Adam’s still whimpering when Nigel slows, oversensitive and _still_ so eager. He shudders beneath Nigel, pressing kisses to his cheek, the hollow of his throat. “Do it again,” He pleads, soft and sweet and oh-so-pliant beneath Nigel. He’s still shuddering from the aftereffects of his orgasm. Nigel wants to bite him, to leave bruises across his skin, to fuck and strike and coddle him in equal measures.

“Not right now, darling,” He whispers instead, sucking a hickey into Adam’s neck. Adam whines, baring his throat for Nigel’s mouth.

“Please?”

“Who makes the decisions, darling?”

“Nigel.”

“That’s right, gorgeous, that’s exactly right.”

And Adam sinks beneath him, eyes closed, blissful in the afterglow.

\-----  
The knocking startles Adam out of his book. Nigel is out at the club for an emergency meeting with Darko, one Adam had flat-out refused. It’s a Friday night, and the meeting is taking place at the bar itself, instead of in a back room. Adam has no interest in the crowd or the noise.

He stares at the door, suspicious. No one should be knocking. Nigel has a key, Gabi has never been to the apartment, and it’s much too late for a neighbor to be stopping by to chat. Not that any of the neighbors do that.

Adam thinks of Nigel, of the gun he wears on his hip like a particularly heavy fashion accessory. He thinks of the block of knives in the kitchen, and simultaneously disregards that thought.

The knocking begins again. “Adam!”

Adam freezes in place. He stares at the door for a long, silent moment, and then stands, crossing the room in three quick strides. His heart is racing. This is unexpected. He hates unexpected things. For a moment, he considers pretending not to be home.

Then, he gathers his courage and throws the door open.

She’s wearing a scarf. It’s the first thing Adam notices. It’s navy, with glittering yellow stars printed across it. The glitter sparkles as it catches the light from the hallway, dazzling and distracting as she raises onto her toes and then drops back down again. She’s grinning. Adam is not. He doesn’t know what to do. He can’t make himself move.

“Surprise!” Beth says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: When I first wrote this, I forgot to warn for some light, unnegotiated (but well-recieved) face slapping. Sorry, y'all.
> 
> This is way overdue. My excuse is that I work retail, and it was Christmas, and I'm planning a wedding, and also I have no excuse. 
> 
> I love Adam. Adam knows exactly what he wants and is dragging Nigel along with him.
> 
> Poor Nigel. Surprise Rimming is a terrible idea, by the way. Do not just spontaneously stick your tongue in people's asses. Especially your anxious boyfriend who hates surprises to begin with, wtf Nigel? 
> 
> (This has not deterred him, btw. He will attempt again.)
> 
> subspacey Adam is really fun to write, and I hope to write more of him.
> 
> Everybody needs to be very aware of the way Adam phrases things when he talks to Gabi, so we can all understand how much the next few chapters are *not* her fault.
> 
> I don't like this sex scene. Fingers crossed that I do better next time.
> 
> Also, speaking of surprising people who hate to be surprised in an attempt to please them... >:)
> 
> Tumblr exploded so come find me on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/stratumgermani1).


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, specific kinks/ warnings in the end notes  
> WARNING: This fic now contains NSFW Art! As done by the lovely [Nephila](https://twitter.com/callmenephila) !

Adam’s hands are trembling. Beth is still in the doorway, the corner of her smile twitching faintly. “Aren’t you going to let me in, Adam?” She asks gently.

“Right,” Adam says, startling, “Right, of course, please come in.” The words are stiff in his mouth, too uncertain, too surprised. “Beth, what are you _doing_ here?”

She frowns. Adam is vaguely aware that he must have said something rude but isn’t entirely sure _what_. Surely, it is not unreasonable to want to know why people have shown up at your apartment from another country? Maybe it’s a tone thing, Adam has never properly understood tone. Most things sound very similar to him.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Beth says, taking in his living room with wide eyes. “Wow, Adam, this is a nice apartment.”

‘Wow’ typically indicates surprise, but Adam doesn’t understand what is so shocking. Of course it’s a nice apartment, he couldn’t stand it if it wasn’t. And Nigel would have moved him out the second Adam gave him control. In all honesty, Adam is counting the days until Nigel gets fed up with the size of the place and makes him move anyway. He’s already started pointing out the empty apartment that overlooks Adam and Gabi’s favorite café.

“It was suggested by my boss,” Adam says. The boss is the only person at work who likes him, and she, at least, makes it bearable when everyone else is being awful. She’s young, younger than Adam is, and tends to treat everyone in the group like her children, even though many of them are older than her. Adam dislikes being coddled, but he likes that she stops and checks in on him whenever she walks by his cubicle.

He’s gotten distracted again. Beth is staring at him, her head tilted, a tiny smile gracing her face. Adam’s hands begin to tap at his thighs.

“I know you don’t like surprises,” Beth says gently, “But I thought this would be a _good_ surprise. I missed you, Adam. Did you… did you miss me?”

“Of course I missed you!” Adam assures her. And he has. He’s missed her and Harlan, the apartment he’d shared with his father, the raccoons in Central Park. The peace and quiet you can find on a park bench after dark.

There aren’t enough stars in New York, but it was Adam’s home for his entire life. He’s still not sure he’ll be able to stay away forever.

“Good,” Beth says, with a large sigh, “Good, that’s… That’s great.”

She’s usually a lot more articulate than this. Adam wonders if she’s tired from the flight. She doesn’t have a suitcase with her, so surely she’s already  been to a hotel. She should have gone to bed there, it’s getting late.

Adam’s fingers tap tap tap. Beth glances down at them, and then back up at his face.

“Look, I’m starving,” She says, “All I’ve had to eat all day is terrible airport food. Why don’t we go grab a bite to eat and catch up a bit?”

“I can make you something,” Adam offers, but Beth is already shaking her head.

“Adam, please, no mac and cheese. Not tonight.”

Adam has other things now. He’s sure Nigel wouldn’t mind sharing. Nigel has a wider palate than Adam. He has a variety of microwavable things, but they also cook regularly. There are a dozen fruits and vegetables in the fridge, and Adam will only tolerate about a third of them. But Nigel can’t stand to eat the same thing twice in one week, not if he can help it.

Beth is frowning, though, and Adam is still tapping. He doesn’t want to force her to cook if she doesn’t want to. But still…

“It’s Friday,” Adam reminds her, “It’s very busy. Very crowded.”

Beth grins and shakes her head. “I know you, Adam, don’t I?”

Adam nods. It’s a weird question. She would not be here if she didn’t.

“And I know what makes you uncomfortable,” Beth continues, “So I looked it up. There’s a place not far from here, it’s small and quiet, not too bright or too loud. It doesn’t get very crowded because it’s just a little place.”

Adam is not allowed to leave the apartment without Nigel. Without permission. And Nigel had told him to ‘stay here and be a good boy,’ before he left, had kissed his forehead, his cheek, his lips. Licked into Adam’s mouth and very nearly made himself late for his meeting. Adam knew that when Nigel came home, he would want sex. He would want to touch Adam, to be close to him. He would be furious to come home to an empty apartment.

“They have mac and cheese,” Beth sings, “Real mac and cheese, not fettucine alfredo.” Adam stares at her. He has mac and cheese _here_ , he has the things he needs here. He has Nigel here.

But it has been so long since he saw Beth, and he can’t stand the thought of her being disappointed in him. And it _does_ seem like she tried very hard to find a place they could both enjoy. And Nigel is likely to run very late. He always does, when he’s called to the club last minute.

( _And if he is disobedient,_ he thinks to himself, _Nigel will hit him. And it will hurt, it will hurt so much, and he will probably cry. But then Nigel will hold him, fuck him, and everything will be alright.)_

“I can’t be out too late,” He warns, grabbing his keys. Beth grins at him, big and wide, and he feels like he’s done something right even as his stomach twists into knots and his fingers tap tap tap.

\-----

Beth is right, because she often is. She’s often wrong, as well, but she’s usually right about social situations. The restaurant is tucked away down an alley, it’s quiet, and they _do_ sell mac and cheese. It’s not as good as when Nigel made baked mac and cheese from scratch (and then obligingly scraped off the weird crunchy bits that made Adam’s mouth feel wrong), but it’s decent.

And it really is nice to see Beth. She babbles a mile a minute about all the things she’d been up to, about the book she’s shopping to a publisher, and she coaxes Adam into questions about his job, questions that _don’t_ make him feel itchy and too small. Questions about the work, not the people.

Beth can be too much sometimes, too eager, too excited, but sometimes she is just right. Just the perfect amount of person for Adam to spend time with.

And so, they’re paying their tab when Adam finally realizes he’s left his phone at home. He feels faint, all of a sudden. He knows, he _knows_ that Nigel will have tried to call. There’s no other option, when Adam’s broken their rules, wandering through Bucharest at night with no phone and no supervision. Adam is not lucky enough for Nigel to have been busy. Nigel is never too busy to check in.

“I have to get home,” He says as Beth tucks a tip under her water. He says it again when she tries to detour towards the bathroom. And again as they move towards the front door instead It rolls through his brain and out his mouth, over and over again until his hands are shaking, until they are safely in his empty apartment and Beth presses him into the couch.

“I really need the bathroom,” She says with a frown that Adam is too stressed to try and place, “But I am going to move as fast as I can, and be right back, okay? You just sit here, and rock and tap if you have to, and I will be back. You’re home, Adam. You’re safe.”

He is safe, of course he is safe. Everything Nigel does to him makes him feel safe. But his phone is blinking with missed calls across the room. And Adam knows that the punishment that is surely coming will make him feel safer and more loved than anything else ever has, but he will have to get through Nigel’s agonizing disappointment first, and that makes something thick and painful clutch in his throat.

Beth brushes his hair away from his forehead and rushes towards the bathroom. The bathroom door closes with a click just as the front door shoves open wide.

_____ Nigel can’t decide if he’s more terrified or angry. He’d called Adam right before he left the club, and then three more times on the walk home. A walk that had quickly become a jog, racing home to find Adam’s phone still plugged into the charger.

Adam had not been in the apartment. He had not been in the laundry room, either, or the stairway, though Nigel checked twice. He’d retraced his steps, hoping that Adam had gotten bored of waiting and gone to the club to find him, hoping a forgotten phone was the worst of the night’s trouble.

Adam had not been in the club itself, or in Nigel’s office. Nigel didn’t pass him as he ran back home.

But when he spots Adam curled up on the couch in the living room, Nigel settles on furious.

His first instinct is to grab Adam by the arm and drag him back to the bedroom, show him exactly how scared Adam has made him. Nigel buries that instinct. He won’t punish Adam while he’s bubbling with rage, no matter how much Adam swears up and down that he wants it.

He can’t quite stop himself from the first bit, though, crossing the room in three quick strides to grab Adam’s biceps, firm but not painfully so. Just enough to drag Adam’s attention from his own kneecaps.

“Where the fuck where you?” Nigel asks, and is mortified to hear his own voice pitched high from genuine worry. Adam doesn’t go out. He just doesn’t. He eats lunch with Gabi and makes occasional trips to the grocery store. He visits the park with Nigel as often as clear night skies permit. But he doesn’t just _go out_ , especially not on his own at 8 o’clock on a Friday night.

Adam blinks up at him. His arms are trembling in Nigel’s grasp, and his eyes are damp. The worry creeps up another notch.

“I went for dinner.” He says in a small, hesitant voice. There’s guilt written across every inch of his face. Nigel knows that Adam tends to come across as ‘flat’ to people who don’t know any better, stupid people who don’t use the goddamn eyes in their faces, but Nigel knows every inch of him, knows what a creeping dread looks like on his boy.

But Adam has asked for this, a thousand times in a thousand ways, and Nigel is helpless to do anything but what they both want him to do.

“You know better,” Nigel says, in a low growl that he doesn’t have to fake, “You don’t go out without your phone, you don’t go out _alone_ , without me.”

“Yes, Nigel,” Adam whispers, almost too soft to be heard.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Nigel asks, raising his voice a little louder and drawing himself up a little taller. Adam stares up at him with wide eyes, still anxious, still trembling. But as Nigel watches, the tip of that little pink tongue darts out to trace a damp line across his soft lower lip. “Wandering the goddamn city at night, what the _fuck_ -“

“Hey!” The voice that interrupts him is familiar in a way Nigel can’t quite place. He drops Adam’s arms, spinning on his heel and instinctively placing himself between Adam and the new threat.

The ‘threat,’ as it were, is a woman, dark haired. Pretty, in an angry sort of way. She’s not the shortest woman Nigel’s ever seen, but she’s still a good half a foot smaller than he is, and so when she draws herself up to her full height, it’s much more amusing than intimidating.

“You can’t talk to Adam like that,” She says, hands on her hips, “Who do you think you are?”

“I’m Nigel,” Nigel says, folding his arms across his chest and doing a much better job of looking scary, if he does say so himself, “Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m Beth,” She says, taking a step closer, “I’m Adam’s best friend.”

Beth. Adam’s Beth? Adam’s ex, with the stories and the Skype calls? Adam’s very American friend, that Beth?

What the fuck is she doing in their living room?

“Well, I’m Adam’s boyfriend,” Nigel drawls, “And this is our home, so I guess I outrank you.”

Beth looks startled. Positively shocked, actually, and it occurs to Nigel, with a combination of humor and jealous irritation, that if she never asked Adam about a boyfriend, he probably never told her. Adorable, frustrating, beautiful little brat.

To Beth’s credit, she takes the news well. There’s only a moment of stunned silence before she draws herself back up again.

“I don’t care who you are,” She says, “I don’t care if you’re his… his boyfriend, or his husband, or whatever you are. You don’t get to talk to him like that.”

She’s a fiery little thing. Nigel dislikes her, on principle - dislikes anyone who’s had Adam in their bed, bared to them, damp-mouthed and shaking with his passion – but he can admire her spirit.

And anyone who would defend Adam from a thug twice their size gains a few points in Nigel’s book.

“Looks like I owe you an apology, darling,” Nigel says, and is amused to see a flicker of disappointment in Adam’s big blue eyes. “You know how I worry, must have let my concern get away with me.”

Beth does not look any less furious, but there’s little she can do. This is Nigel’s home, and Adam is already nodding along with the apology, though he looks very displeased to be doing so.

“I’m sorry I worried you,” Adam says, “Beth was hungry after her flight.”

“Just flew in tonight?” Nigel asks. Beth gives him a stiff nod. “Well, then you must be tired as well. I’ll hail you a cab to your hotel.”

She looks like she wants to argue, but she can’t, not when Adam is already handing Nigel his phone. She watches the two of them warily, but Nigel will be damned if she’s going to get Adam alone tonight. He’s not having her mess with his darling’s head when he’s already needy and vulnerable. Nigel knows what Beth sees when she looks at him. It’s the same thing everyone else sees. Everyone but Adam.

No, tonight she can go to her fucking hotel and let Nigel give Adam what he needs. Tomorrow… Well, Nigel will deal with tomorrow when it arrives.

_____

Beth lingers in the doorway when her cab arrives. She keeps looking over Adam’s shoulder at Nigel, and Adam doesn’t know why. He cannot tell if she’s still harboring rage, or perhaps she too is intrigued by the curve of Nigel’s jaw, the sharp lines of his cheekbones. Or maybe she just doesn’t want to look Adam in the eyes right now. Adam doesn’t know.

To be perfectly honest, Adam doesn’t really care, either. As callous as it is, he is tired. He was happy to spend time with Beth, but now he has made Nigel angry, and he has been out and about in the city on a Friday night, and all Adam really wants is to be spanked and put to bed, where he can press his face into Nigel’s neck and breath in the scent of coffee and cigarettes and Nigel.

Nigel is sitting on the couch when Adam finally gets the door closed, his arms folded across his chest. Adam bites back a whimper. Nigel’s face has grown hard again, mouth turned down.

“You know I’m still upset, don’t you, darling?”

And Adam nods, and breaks, because this is the part he doesn’t like, the part he _hates_. When Nigel is upset with him, disappointed in him. He’s tired and overwhelmed, and the tears that spill over are a shock to both of them.

“Oh no,” Nigel murmurs, opening his arms, “Oh no, come here, darling.”

Adam goes without hesitation, though Nigel had been angry with him only minutes before. He collapses into Nigel’s lap with a tremble that starts in his hands and works its way through his entire body.

“Shh,” Nigel says, gripping Adam’s curls in the way Adam loves, guiding Adam’s face to his neck. Adam presses damp cheeks to the skin and tries to breath. “She didn’t tell you she was coming, did she?”

Adam shakes his head, and Nigel swears.

“Just showed up on the fucking doorstep. My poor darling, you’ve had a rough night, haven’t you?”

Adam whines in agreement, a soft, high sound that nearly doesn’t make it out of his mouth. Nigel rocks him like he’s a child and not a grown man. It’s more soothing than Adam expects it to be. But then, any moment when Nigel’s attention is on him is good, even if it’s painful.

“I’m sorry,” Adam whispers, and Nigel goes stiff beneath him.

“Sorry for what, gorgeous?”

“For going out without permission. For leaving my phone behind.”

Nigel is quiet for a moment, and then he tugs Adam’s head up by the hair, face too close for Adam to look anywhere else. “I’m about to make you an offer, darling, and it’s a one-of-a-kind, so you think hard on it, understood?”

Adam tries to nod and can’t. Nigel looks at him expectantly, and Adam forces the words out of his mouth. “Yes, Nigel.”

“I don’t think any of this was your fault, Adam. I think that bi-“ Nigel swallows whatever he was going to say, and starts over. “I think Beth surprised you, and maybe she meant well, but you and I both know how well you do with surprises. You would have been caught off guard, and I’m sure it was her idea to go out, wasn’t it?” Adam forces another yes, and Nigel sighs. “And at least you weren’t alone. You were with someone who wants to look out for you. So, here’s my offer, Adam. Just this once, a clean slate. We act like it never happened. But if I ever come home to an empty apartment again, darling, it will be twice as rough for you. Deal?”

Adam stills, staring at Nigel’s jaw, his cheekbones, anywhere but his eyes. Nigel frowns and presses a kiss to his cheek.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, darling?”

“I don’t want to act like it never happened,” Adam blurts out. He slaps a hand over his own mouth, but it’s too late to take it back. He wonders if Nigel will be disappointed, if Nigel is just as tired as Adam, if this was Nigel’s way of asking to go to bed.

Nigel frowns at him. “What do you mean?”

“I knew you’d be mad,” Adam says to the multicolored strands of Nigel’s bangs, “I just thought I’d beat you home. And I… I feel so bad. So sick, in my stomach.”

“Feeling guilty, baby?” Nigel asks, voice slow and steady. Adam nods. “And you want me to fix it?”

“Please?” Adam asks, voice little more than a whisper, “Please, it was so much better last time, after you punished me.”

Nigel stares at him for a long moment, indecipherable, and then nods. He lets go of Adam’s hair and guides him off of his lap. “Go to the bedroom,” He whispers, “take off all of your clothes, put them in the basket, and then lean over the bed like you would if you wanted me to fuck you.”

Adam shivers, and obeys.

In the bedroom, he shivers again, a slight chill settling over his naked skin. He folds himself over the bed, head pillowed in his arms, and pushes up on his toes. He makes himself look as inviting as he can, although he isn’t quite sure how to do that. Whatever he’s managed, it pleases Nigel. Adam can hear a sharp intake of breath as Nigel shuts the door behind him.

“Gorgeous,” Nigel says, a compliment rather than a pet name, for once. He pats gently at the exposed curve of Adam’s ass, and Adam can’t help another full body shudder.

“You asked for this, darling,” Nigel says, “But I still get to decide how far it goes. And I was _very_ unhappy with you when I came home. Last chance to back out.”

Adam wonders when Nigel will realize that Adam is _never_ going to back out. He will take everything Nigel is willing to give him, and still beg for more, given the chance. Nigel has overwhelmed him, has changed him in ways Adam never expected to be changed.

Adam grips tight to the blankets, arches his back, and shakes his head. Nigel huffs out a laugh and stands close enough that his pants brush Adam’s calves. Adam tenses up in anticipation.

It hurts, because of course it does. Nigel is striking him for punishment, not for pleasure. But each sharp swat sends shockwaves through Adam. He shifts anxiously from foot to foot, until Nigel forces a yelp from him with a sharp pinch of his thigh.

“Hold still,” Nigel warns, pinching the other thigh in the same spot. Adam whines unhappily, smothering his displeasure in the bedding. It’s difficult to hold still, as painful heat radiates through his ass and thighs. Nigel is thorough, even more so than last time. He works Adam over until tears blossom in Adam’s eyes, and he gasps for breath. Only when Adam outright sobs at a fierce smack does Nigel finally step away.

“Good boy,” Nigel praises, leaning over to run a hand through Adam’s sweaty curls, “My good boy.”

Adam shakes against the bed, thighs trembling with every spark of pain that still rolls through him.

______

Adam is hard against the bed, thrusting down in rough little jerks that make Nigel want to lick him open- although Nigel has learned his lesson there. Any future oral experiments would be planned and outlined on the goddamn calendar rather than sprung on Adam.

Nigel leans over Adam’s back, reaching down between his slightly spread thighs to fondle his balls. Adam gasps, arching his spine to push back into the touch. He’s fucking gorgeous.

“This was supposed to be a punishment, Adam,” Nigel teases, “But it looks like you had some fun.”

What spills from Adam’s lips is nothing more than a needy, desperate whine. Nigel tightens his grip ever-so-slightly, just to hear him make that sound again. Adam is squirming under his touch, oversensitive and panting.

“Do you think you deserve to come?” Nigel asks, “After all that trouble you got yourself into?” He’s teasing, of course. He’d been willing to skip the punishment entirely, he’s not about to go drawing it out.

And then Adam stiffens, stills under his hands. “No,” He says, soft and muffled by the blankets.

“What was that, gorgeous?”

Adam clears his throat and tilts his head back, exposing the line of his throat to Nigel’s hungry gaze. “No, Nigel,” He says, looking back over his shoulder, “I don’t deserve to come.”

Well. _Fuck_.

“No, you don’t, do you?” Nigel says, pulling his hand away to smack Adam’s upturned ass again. Adam cries out, burying his face into the blankets once more. “But I do.”

“Yes, Nigel!” Adam cries out, tilting his hips back towards Nigel. Nigel swats him a final time and then shoves his pants down.

It’s amazing, what Adam does to him. The power he gives Nigel intoxicates him, twists him out of shape until he is nothing more than a burning knot of desire. Nigel pins Adam down with a heavy hand at the small of his back, holding him still with his own weight as he pulls his cock out from his underwear. He’s achingly hard, has been ever since Adam looked up at him and asked to be punished. He wonders if he should worry about just how fucking much they both enjoy this. It’s not much of a deterrent if Adam practically begs for it with every quirk of his lips.

Nigel fists himself quickly, too close to the edge for teasing. Adam squirms under his touch, hands clutching desperately at the sheets, whimpering at the slick noises of Nigel’s hand on his own flesh.

Nigel comes with a deep groan, spilling over Adam’s lower back, the red-hot curve of his ass, Nigel’s own fucking hand. He comes and comes, wringing out every last drop over Adam’s flesh, and Adam moans like it’s his own fucking orgasm.

When he’s done, he wipes the head of his cock against Adam’s thigh, watching the way his body relaxes with a satisfied sigh, despite the erection he has trapped against the bed.

“How long do you think you can stay like this for me?” Nigel asks, “Messy and damp, just for me?”

Adam turns his head to the side so Nigel can see his frown. “About two minutes,” He admits, and Nigel laughs.

 

_____

Nigel lets Adam clean himself up, but he does not let him be. He touches Adam all through the shower, large hands on Adam’s sensitive and sore thighs, the soft skin of his stomach. He presses up behind Adam, as close as they can be without toppling over, and pinches at Adam’s nipples until he shakes and starts to beg.

“Please?” Nigel teases him, “Please what? I know you’re not asking to come, darling, you know you’re not allowed.”

Adam shakes his head and sobs as Nigel tugs and teases, gentle flicks of his nails over aching buds. He doesn’t know what he’s asking for. He doesn’t know where he begins and ends, anymore.

Nigel cleans him up and towels him off, lingering over Adam’s damp curls with the occasional shudder-inducing tug. He lays Adam out over the bed and pins him in place, draped over him like a particularly heavy blanket.

For a moment, they stare at each other, Adam’s eyes flicking from cheekbone to forehead, as close to eye contact as he can comfortably manage.

“I love you,” Nigel whispers, a breath against his mouth. His eyes go wide, immediately after. He stills over Adam, an immense weight coiled with tension, pressing him into the mattress. Adam doesn’t think Nigel’s ever said it to him before. He remembers Beth, on the phone with her mother, after her father was sentenced but before they officially broke up. Damp-eyed and wondering if Adam loved her at all.

He remembers the look on her face when he said it. Unreadable.

There had not been many more dates after that. She’d told him, when they broke up, that she couldn’t even be sure if he meant it, or if he was just mimicking her, mirroring what he thought she wanted.

Beth had said many thing Adam disagreed with, about Adam, about how he felt about her, but he understood that specific one. Understanding hadn’t made it hurt less, though.

Adam has never said it to Nigel. He can picture it, Nigel on the phone with Darko, heartbroken and uncertain. He will never leave Nigel uncertain. Beth had done her own damage in their relationship, but this was a lesson Adam had needed to learn, and he finds himself immeasurably grateful for it, now. Failing Beth, and her failing him in return, has taught him what to do better.

“I love you, Nigel,” Adam says, and then again, “I love you.” He will say it every day. He will inundate Nigel with it, until Nigel is sick of it, until he cannot remember a day ever went by where Adam didn’t say it.

“Don’t say it if you don’t mean it,” Nigel whispers against his mouth, not quite a kiss, but barely.

“I mean it,” Adam promises, “I love you, Nigel.”

“It makes me crazy,” Nigel warns, “Love, it ruins me. I won’t… You can’t come back from this, baby.”

“I wouldn’t want to.”

Nigel laughs, laughs so hard that damp tears flood his eyes and drip onto Adam’s face.

“I love you,” Adam tells him again, in hopes that it will stem the flood he’s caused.

“I love you too, darling,” Nigel says, “Till death do us fucking part, hmm?”

“We’re not married,” Adam points out sensibly, “I don’t think it’s even legal in Romania.”

“Then we’ll travel,” Nigel tells him, “Take a holiday. Head out to a fancy hotel, something with mac and cheese on the room service menu. I mean it, gorgeous, nothing will ever rip you from me, not now.”

Adam frowns and tilts his head. “Nigel, did you just propose?”

Nigel pauses, and then starts to snicker. “I think I did. What do you say, Adam?”

Adam doesn’t have to think about it. He has already learned to follow Nigel to the ends of the earth. “Till death do us part?” He asks, taking Nigel’s hand.

“Even longer, if you’ll have me.”

And Adam does not believe in life beyond death, but it’s a very romantic thought. Him and Nigel, something of them connected forever.

“Alright,” Adam says, “I’m saying yes.”

Nigel smiles, all teeth, and kisses him long and deep, until Adam’s all worked up again and has to be soothed with gentle hands in his hair.

They sleep like that, pressed up against each other, Adam half-hard against Nigel’s thigh. Blissful. Intimate.

_____

Things were not going according to plan for Beth.

She’d expected that Adam would not invite her to stay at the apartment with him, that he would not be able (or willing) to take off work (although her visit thankfully started on a weekend) and that she would most likely be meeting Gabi. In those areas, Adam had not disappointed.

The Nigel thing was a bit unexpected, though.

For one thing, Beth had been completely unaware that Adam even _liked_ men. He’d shown no signs of it before, and he’d never mentioned any ex boyfriends or crushes.

For another, although Beth was aware she’d never actually asked and Adam was exceedingly literal, she’d hoped he would have _told_ her about a new partner. They were friends, weren’t they? He should have been _excited_ to tell her.

And it was this, and not the creeping, clinging jealousy (which Beth was enough of an adult to admit to herself she felt), that had her wary of Nigel. Adam hadn’t mentioned him. Adam had _moved in_ with the guy, and never once told Beth anything other than once or twice mentioning ‘my friend, Nigel.’ And there was the yelling, too. It set off great flashing warning bells in Beth’s head. If a man had ever spoken to her like Nigel spoke to Adam, Beth’s dad would have laid him out flat and gone to jail a lot sooner. Cursing at Adam, grabbing at his arms like that. Beth wanted to check for bruises, but Adam had always tended towards long-sleeve shirts and sweaters, and this had not changed since his move.

He moved stiffly, though. Nigel had picked Beth up at her hotel and dropped them both off at the café for lunch, and Beth noted with alarm Adam’s small huff of breath when he climbed out of the car.

Beth could barely attention after that. She felt a little guilty about that – Gabi seemed like a sweetheart, and Beth had missed Adam like crazy – but her heart was pounding with a constant echo of _‘what the hell were you thinking?’_ Adam’s wide-eyed expression a trace of what might have been fear, was superimposed over the back of her eyelids.

Nigel was beating him. The suspicion- for admittedly, she couldn’t _prove_ it- sat heavy and thick in Beth’s stomach. She felt nauseous with it.

At the very least, he was verbally abusive. That, Beth had witnessed with her own eyes and ears. And Adam, sweet Adam, is acting like nothing at all had happened. In fact, he’s been talking about his latest microchip for so long that a familiar line of tension has drawn itself between Gabi’s eyes, the look most people got when Adam had monopolized a conversation a little too long. Before Gabi can open her mouth and say anything, Beth reaches out and grabbed Adam’s arm.

“Adam!” She says, loud and as cheerful as she could make herself, “Didn’t you tell me this place had really good cookies?”

“Oh,” Adam says, blinking down at the table. “Yes. Gabi likes them.” He pauses for a long moment, and then adds, “Did you want me to get you one?”

That hadn’t been Beth’s intention. She had just wanted to open up the conversation to something new, something everyone could contribute to, but this serves her purpose well. She fishes a few lei out of her purse and hands them over, waiting until Adam has entered the building to turn to Gabi.

Gabi is frowning at her, her face scrunched up in displeasure. Beth’s words die on her tongue.

“Don’t do that,” Gabi says sternly.

“Do what?”

“Do not interrupt Adam like that.”

Beth frowns, staring back at Gabi. “He’ll go on all day if you let him,” She says slowly, “When he lived in New York, we were practicing social cues and learning when to let someone else talk. He needs help with it.”

Gabi shakes her head. “Adam sometimes needs to be reminded to share a conversation, yes, but I will speak up and ask him to take turns if I need to. And he appreciates the honesty. Far more polite than grabbing him like that.”

Beth flushes, looking away. She’d been trying to be subtle, but apparently she’d failed.

“Why are you here, Beth? Adam hasn’t mentioned you coming to visit.”

“I wanted to surprise him,” Beth admits. This is apparently the wrong thing to say.

“You wanted to surprise Adam?” Gabi says, wide-eyed, “ _Adam_?”

“Yes,” Beth says stiffly.

“I thought you were his best friend,” Gabi accuses, “You should know better. He does not like surprises, he needs to plan things out far in advance.”

Beth’s face feels hot and stiff. She dislikes being called out, even when she knows she’s wrong. In truth, she’d known it was a bad idea from the start. But there are things you do for your partner, and things you do for yourself. This was something Beth had needed to do for herself. A big, grand, romantic gesture, something to prove to both herself and Adam that she was better now, that she could give Adam the kind of attention and love he deserved, now that she was no longer locked up in her own head, spending her days drunk on champagne and crying in her apartment.

In her head, it had been like the movies. In her head, Adam hadn’t quite gotten it, but he’d still been pleased to see her, and Beth could work with pleased.

“I was hoping to fix our relationship,” She finds herself admitting, “Adam is… You have no idea how much I regret how we ended.”

Gabi’s face softens. “I’m afraid you’re a little late for that,” She says gently, “And Adam seems completely unaware of your intentions.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Beth mutters, a hint of anger to her voice.

“Hey.” Gabi still looks sympathetic, but her voice has taken on a sharp edge. “It is not Adam’s fault that you broke up with him, or that you are not straightforward with him now.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Beth says hastily. “I just… I meant…” She sighs, takes a deep breath. “I think his boyfriend is hurting him.”

The look on Gabi’s face changes, twists into something uncomfortable and vaguely horrified. “You have met Nigel?” She asks.

Well, that expression is a big red flag if Beth ever saw one.

“Yeah, last night,” She says. “Adam and I went out for dinner and he was _furious_. He didn’t know I was in the bathroom, and he was yelling at Adam, asking him ‘what the hell were you thinking’ and treating him like he was a child.” Beth brings her hand up to wrap around her own bicep. “He grabbed him, right here. It looked hard enough to bruise.”

Gabi bites her lower lip, staring at Beth’s hands

“Have you met him?” Beth prods.

“Once or twice,” Gabi confirms. He surprised Adam at lunch once. Adam dislikes surprises, but he looked more than a little uncomfortable. He looked worried. I would almost say scared. And some of the stories he tells me, the things Nigel has convinced him to do…” Gabi trails off and then drops her voice to a low whisper. “There were bruises on his wrists last week. When I asked him about them, he said he’d had a bad night. I’ve tried to get him to open up to me, but he isn’t ready yet.”

Beth swallows around a lump in her throat. “He needs our help.”

“He does,” Gabi agreed, “But he is a grown man. We cannot force him, he must make his own decisions. All we can do is be there for him, and to try and get him to see what we see. Push too hard…”

“And we will push him right into Nigel,” Beth confirms. She’s seen it happen, has known too many people struggling with abusive relationships end up stuck in place because they aren’t ready to see it for what it is. It is too easy for an abuser to spin a tall tale, to make a victim feel like their friends are out to get them instead of trying to help. No, Adam will have to come to them.

But they can lay the groundwork. They can make sure he knows they worry, and that they are here for him.

“I will keep talking to Adam,” Gabi promises, “I will tell him what I see, what has me concerned. Do not confront Nigel. He is…” Gabi frowns down at her food. “I have researched him, since I met him,” She admits, “He is a very dangerous man, Beth. Do not say anything where he can hear. Do not say anything at all. It is a delicate situation, and we must be prepared before we confront-“ She stops and aims a smile over Beth’s shoulder.

Adam returns with a cookie and a tight frown. “The line was very long,” He says unhappily. Beth splits her cookie in half and shares it with him. She’s too nauseous to eat.

_____

Beth is exhausting.

Nigel hasn’t really had to deal with her much. She and Adam went to a museum after the lunch date with Gabi. Nigel had invited himself along as chauffer for Adam’s safety, but he’d trailed behind them, let the two of them chat alone. Adam deserves a chance to spend time with his friends, even if his boyfriend is a paranoid worrier.

Adam does genuinely seem to like Beth, now that he’s gotten over the stress of her surprise visit. He laughs when she talks to him, and chatters away with one of his most genuine smiles. Beth, despite Nigel’s dislike of her, seems to enjoy him as well. And Nigel approves of people who care about Adam, although Beth’s surprise arrival and the suspicious looks she keeps giving Nigel make him want to throw things.

But Adam, poor Adam, has a routine, even on weekends. And when he and Nigel _do_ go out, they plan it in advance and talk about it first. By the time Beth is safely back in her hotel and Adam is safely back in their bed, Nigel’s begun to worry he’s going to have to work him over just to get him to sleep.

Adam is squirmy in the bed, partially from some residual stiffness from his spanking, partially from overtired restlessness. Nigel holds him tight and cards a rough hand through his hair, listening to Adam’s pleased hum when he pauses to tug.

“I have a gift for you, gorgeous,” Nigel says, reaching for the package in the bedside drawer.

Adam eyes the box suspiciously. Nigel is not at all surprised that he is wary of gifts, but it still makes Nigel snicker.

“Open it, Adam, it won’t bite.”

“I know it won’t,” Adam says, defensive. He opens the heavy box carefully, drawing out the gun.

Nigel had paid a lot to have the pistol rush-ordered, intricately carved on the wooden handle. _For my darling Adam. Love, Nigel._ He’d had stars carved into it as well, and a rough approximation of Saturn on one side. Adam stares at it with the exact mixture of baffled confusion and pleased amusement that Nigel had been expecting.

“I still don’t want you going out without me knowing,” Nigel tells him, “But this way, I’ll always know you’re safe.”

“I don’t know what to do with a gun, Nigel.”

“I’ll teach you,” Nigel says, helping Adam to wrap his hands around it properly. “Besides, I thought you’d like this better than a ring.”

Adam frowns down at the gun. “What does this have to do with rings?”

“Engagement rings, darling. I thought you might not like the feeling. You’d be fidgeting with it constantly.”

Adam runs his fingers over one of the stars. “You got me an engagement _gun_?”

“Only the best for my darling,” Nigel confirms, pressing a cheek to Adam’s temple.

He knows it’ll be a fight to get Adam to carry it at all, let alone shoot it, but Adam still smiles at the handle, at the concrete proof of Nigel’s love for him. Nigel would tattoo it across his own skin for the world to see, if he could, wipe away the woman on his neck and replace every piece of his former life with Adam fucking Raki.

But for now, he’ll settle for crawling into bed together, chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings/Kinks: Spanking and orgasm denial, both requested and well-recieved. 
> 
> So. Beth. Ahh, Beth. If you have spent any amount of time talking to me about Adam, you already know this, but I am the lone solitary Beth fan in the fandom. She fucked up- A LOT. She was shitty to Adam - A LOT. But she meant well, she was in the long run good for Adam, and she was going through a LOT of shit at the time. I understand Beth. I don't always agree with her, but I get her, and while I'm happy to call her out on all her bullshit (or have Gabi do it for me), you'll never catch me making her the arbitrary villian or having her be flat out malicious towards Adam. She's a good person at heart, she just has a lot to learn. She's still fucking up here, but it's well-intentioned fucking up, and I do think she handles it well when she's called out on it. 
> 
> (which brings me to my B point: It is totally okay if you hate Beth and even if you mention that in your comments but can we try to tone down our vitriol? This is not movie Beth, this is post-movie Beth who is doing her best and learning from her mistakes, very slowly, but she is *trying*. So please, hate Beth but don't hate on my writing)
> 
> I have been called out for my geography before so let me just flat out say it: The cafe they go to with Gabi is the one from the movie, and there are in fact museums and parks and an observatory in Bucharest, but everything else I have made up. I have no idea if there is a small hole-in-the-wall restaurant in Bucharest that would have mac and cheese and not be busy on a Friday night, but lets just pretend there is, haha. Also Adam is displeased at the surprise and at having to go out, but he does enjoy his time at the restaurant with Beth. They are best friends, she just makes terrible choices.
> 
> my lovelies, I will shove 'I'm Nigel, who the fuck are you?' into every goddamn fanfic I can, and everyone else can just deal with my lack of creativity.
> 
> The scene where Nigel offers Adam an out and Adam requests a punishment anyway has been in my head for a very long time. SO LONG. I love it. I actually wrote it twice, once ages ago when I thought of it and once while writing this chapter.
> 
>  
> 
> Also I have no control over these people because there were definitely going to be orgasms all around today and instead, Adam escalated. That should be the subtitle of this goddamn fic: 'And Then Adam Escalated.'
> 
> Speaking of 'I have no control over these people' AT NO POINT IN MY OUTLINE ARE THEY MEANT TO GET ENGAGED. Remember that epilogue I mentioned? Yeah, that Epilogue sprung into being this week, when Nigel spontaneously decided that now was a good time to propose. I did not plan this. I did not know he was going to do it until it was fucking happening. Thanks, Nigel, now I need to write an epilogue. There were only two chapters left!!!
> 
> Some more references to Beth. I do think Adam loved Beth, and I do think he was trying to tell her that ('You are like a part of me' PAY ATTENTION, BETH) but I do also understand how 'he's never even told me he loves me' 'I LOVE YOU BETH' could be a little unbelievable. I think that was a valid concern for Beth to have. The rest of that discussion, less so, but that specific part I get. 
> 
> Someone definitely needed to call Beth out for her rude-ass way of redirecting Adam, though. Thank you, Gabi.
> 
> I've had a few people express frustration with Gabi, and a few people who knew spoilers get frustrated with Beth, so as I have done in every End Note lately, I just want to remind you all that given what little information they have, Beth and Gabi are RIGHT and are doing the right thing. They don't know about the kink, they only know about the bruises and how Nigel speaks to Adam. Those are red flags. They are doing a Good Friend. Please forgive them for not knowing better. 
> 
> (also hope nobody minds that I stole Gabi's gun. It seemed like a Nigel thing to do.)
> 
>  
> 
> You may notice the chapter counter that just went up. Uh. Yeah. So. Rules has two chapters and an epilogue left. I'm just as surprised as you are, I thought it would never end. Not that it's much of a proper story, since the plot didn't show up until the end of chapter 8.
> 
> Don't worry, we will pop back into their lives after this fic! It won't be right away, though. I'm putting everything else on hiatus to finish Rules, so once we are done here I have to get Choices updated.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YO HEY REMEMBER THAT THERE ARE WARNINGS IN THE END NOTES

Beth stays for four more days. Nigel sticks to Adam’s side for each and every one of them, and then gleefully pays for her cab ride back to the airport. Adam doesn’t mind the hovering, especially since Nigel typically gives them enough space for Beth’s shoulders to relax a bit, but the funny pinched look never leaves Beth’s face. Nigel looks unhappy too, and Adam spends the whole visit worried about him.

In bed, after Beth finally leaves, Adam snuggles up to Nigel’s side. He’s trying to look ‘cute.’ He’s been accused (by Nigel) of doing it on purpose before, and though Nigel confirmed he was joking, Adam finds it’s actually very difficult. Instead of commenting on how ‘cute’ he looks, Nigel brushes a hand over Adam’s forehead, frowning. “Are you okay, darling? You look ill. Is your stomach hurting? I knew we shouldn’t have let her order from that pizza place. I should- “

“You know I’m not interested in Beth, right?” Nigel stares at Adam. Adam hastens to clarify. “Sexually. I have no sexual interest in Beth anymore. I mean, she’s very nice looking, but I have you now. I don’t want her.”

Nigel’s frown deepens. Adam twists his fingers in the waistband of his pajama pants. He’s said something wrong, he’s messed it up again.

“I didn’t think that, darling,” Nigel says slowly, “What brought this on?”

“You stayed very close while she was here. I thought maybe you were worried.”

“I was worried,” Nigel replies, “But not about you, Adam. I trust you. I don’t trust _her_.”

That is a sentence that makes no sense to Adam. He turns it over in his head, picks it apart, and still can’t figure it out. “Beth is very trustworthy.”

Nigel sighs. “How do I put this… She doesn’t like me, Adam. She didn’t like what she saw the first night.”

“Some people are uncomfortable when exposed to other’s sex lives,” Adam agrees. Harlan has taught him that.

“I don’t think that’s quite it…” Nigel mutters, but doesn’t clarify. Instead, he presses a kiss to Adam’s forehead. “I just didn’t want to give her the chance to say anything mean to you, darling. Even accidentally.”

Adam doesn’t think Beth would do that, but then again, he didn’t think she would show up at his apartment unannounced, either. People are uncomfortably unpredictable.

People are also prone to suspicion and insecurity. This, Adam understands, because he feels it too. He presses his lips to the underside of Nigel’s jaw, smiling against his skin. “It doesn’t matter if she likes you, or if she’s mean. I like you. Nothing she says is going to change that.”

Nigel laughs softly and rolls over, caging Adam between his arms. He’s heavy, bigger than Adam in a way that shows off hard-earned muscles, but the weight is comforting rather than crushing. “You always know just what to say to me, gorgeous.”

“I don’t,” Adam protests, “I almost never know what to say. I have to work really hard and think about every single- “

Nigel kisses him, cupping Adam’s jaw in his hands and cradling him close. Adam loses his train of thought for a moment, whimpering into Nigel’s mouth. He’s been good today, there’s no reason for Nigel to hold back, and Adam _wants_ …

“You shouldn’t interrupt people,” he scolds when Nigel pulls away, “It’s rude.”

Nigel grins at him. “Is it now? I’m just a bad, bad man, aren’t I, darling?”

“Yes,” Adam says with a grin of his own, and flips them. Nigel’s hair has grown too long. It falls over his eyes, distractingly attractive. Adam swallows and tries to keep talking. “If it were me, I’d be in trouble.”

Nigel’s grin is wide enough to show teeth. He leans up and sets them to Adam’s throat, nipping a gentle line down towards his shoulder. “Good thing I make the rules then, isn’t it?”

“Good for you,” Adam tells him.

“And you.” Nigel lunges forward, pushing Adam back onto his back. Adam grabs for him and finds his hands pinned in place, held still by Nigel’s strength alone.

“Please,” Adam whispers, already lost.

“Don’t you worry, Adam, you’ll get exactly what you want.”

They’re both desperate. Beth may have stayed at a hotel, but her very presence had been a bit of a damper on their sex life, with Adam much too stressed and exhausted at the end of the day to give Nigel the attention he craves. Now, they move with haste, shedding the last bits of their clothing until Nigel can press his way inside, two fingers spreading Adam in hasty, almost painful motions.

Adam had thought he would get used to it, but he never does. It’s a shock every time, how full he feels, how good. The slight hint of pain fades eventually, leaving him with a slightly shaky feeling in his legs. Nigel spreads him wide, first with his fingers deep inside Adam, then with his hands on Adam’s thighs, pressing his legs as far apart as they will go without hurting him. Adam reaches for him, a hand in Nigel’s hair as he starts to push his way inside.

“Hands down,” Nigel growls, and Adam’s hands smack against the bed before he can even think about it, wrists on either side of his head, fingers twining themselves in the blankets. He stares up at Nigel, wide-eyed and eager, rolling his hips up to ease the way.

“Next time,” Nigel says as he seats himself fully inside Adam, “I’ll get those cuffs you liked so much and chain you to the bed. Or maybe I shouldn’t, I don’t know if I could be convinced to let you back up again.”

Adam moans and rolls his hips up, eyelids fluttering at the way Nigel moves deep within him. Every time he thinks he is unbearably full, Nigel shifts a little more, a little deeper, and each motion comes with shockwaves all through his body.

“You would have to let me up eventually, I have work.” Adam knows Nigel is joking, that it is a fantasy and not a plan, but he says it anyway. It’s the right thing to do, given that it makes Nigel chuckle and thrust into him a little harder.

“Smart mouth,” He mutters, leaning down to nip at Adam’s lower lip. “Maybe you shouldn’t work, maybe you should just stay home, where I can keep an eye on you. Ready for me to come home and fuck you senseless.”

“I would get bored when you weren’t here,” Adam points out sensibly, “And then I might be tempted to do something drastic.”

“And that would be just terrible,” Nigel says, sucking a kiss into Adam’s neck, “Wouldn’t want to have to punish you.”

“No,” Adam gasps, “Wouldn’t want- Nigel, _please._ ”

Nigel obliges, guiding Adam to wrap his legs around him as they thrust against each other. Adam is shaking with the effort to hold himself still, coming apart as Nigel looms over him, hard lines and soft lips, a cacophony of sensation, overwhelming Adam in a way he would like to be overwhelmed every day for the rest of his life.

“I need to touch you,” Adam begs.

“No. Keep your hands where they are.”

“I _can’t_ , Nigel, I need- “

“You need to do what I tell you,” Nigel says, biting at the soft skin of Adam’s throat, just a gentle nip, a warning. Adam moans and almost comes right there, pressing up into Nigel’s teeth, offering himself up in every way he can.

“Yes, Nigel.”

“There’s a good boy.”

And then Nigel wraps his hands around Adam’s wrists and holds him tight, holds him in place, and that contact is enough, it’s everything Adam could want.

“I need to come,” Adam babbles.

“Then come, baby, but I’m not done with you yet.” Nigel drags his teeth down Adam’s throat, twisting his hips on the next thrust until Adam is sobbing with the pleasure Nigel gives him, spilling over his stomach in overwhelming pulses of sensation.

True to his word, Nigel is not done with him. He squeezes his hands around Adam’s wrists, fucking into him in slower thrusts that make Adam whimper, overstimulated but unwilling to stop. It’s an odd mix of feeling, simultaneously too much to handle and _so_ good.

“Hurts,” Adam whimpers, but he’s not entirely sure he means it.

Nigel shushes him, transitioning his wrists to one huge hand so he can grab Adam by the chin and force eye contact.

“Shh, I know baby. You’re going to take it though, aren’t you? Open up for me, make me feel good.” Nigel is gasping between breaths, shaking over Adam as he moves. He soothes Adam with kisses and bites to his neck; Adam knows his throat must be a mess of bruises and, to borrow a turn of phrase from Nigel, he does not give a _flying fuck_.

Adam arches into the next thrust, welcoming Nigel into his body, begging with soft little pleas for more, so much that he can’t take it.

“Nigel, I want it, I want everything you can give me.”

Nigel gasps against his throat and comes, flooding Adam, filling him up. Or he would be, if it weren’t for the condom, and for the first time, Adam finds himself wondering how bad it would be without it.

A thought for another time. Nigel collapses over him, heavy and damp, and Adam cannot think of anything else.

_____

Nigel’s life changes three days later, while eying the club for trouble. Technically, they have bouncers for this, but Nigel and Darko both like to take a turn around the floor once in a while. They owe it to the girls to look out for them, after everything the girls do for them.

There have to be some lines, though, and Mihaela is crossing one. Mihaela is the best damn bartender they’ve ever had, but that doesn’t mean she can keep hiding books under the whiskey shelf. Nigel swipes it on his way by, ignoring her outraged shout. “You know where to find it after work,” He calls, heading back towards his office.

But the club gets busy, and Mihaela does not remember to come by for her book after her shift. It sits on Nigel’s desk, face up, displaying the dark, unassuming cover. Nigel, waiting on Darko _as usual_ , eyes it for a moment, and then shrugs. Better than staring at the walls.

_____

 _Cincizeci de Umbre Ale Lui Grey._ It is a terrible book. Nigel wonders if that is the fault of the writer, or the translator, but in the end, it doesn’t matter. The prose drags, the characters are awful. Real human beings do not talk like that.

Nigel devours it in two days, and not for the mediocre plot.

The characters, Nigel decides, are absolute idiots, but they’re useful in some ways. Nigel finds himself exposed to a thousand things he’d never realized.

For one thing, he and Adam aren’t that odd. Nigel had known that other people liked it rough, of course. He’s spanked previous partners; gentle love taps and bites. Adam isn’t the first person he’s tied up, either. Hell, Nigel has been on the other end of a rope before, although he hadn’t enjoyed it.

But the… _domination_. The orders, demands. _Punishments_. Other people do that, other people drag their kinks out of the bedroom. True, the lady in the book doesn’t seem to be a huge fan, but Nigel doesn’t care about some fictional bitch. He cares about Adam, and the look of rapturous joy he gets whenever Nigel is strict with him.

There is more that the book gave him, though, than just the relief of being normal. There is also an almost painful guilt.

Contracts are stupid. Nigel had learned long ago that the first rule of doing something questionable was _never to leave a fucking paper trail._ And nobody needs to repeat themselves so often. Nigel is fairly certain that half the novel is just the author excitedly pasting shit she already wrote, just to up her page count. The list of kinks is enlightening, but not enough to sit through it _twice_.

Limits, though. A concrete list of things someone does or doesn’t want. Safewords.

 _Safewords_.

Adam has never tried to tell Nigel to stop, but would Nigel have listened if he had? Nigel can no longer be sure. There had been moments, surely, where Adam had been hesitant, where he had faltered and Nigel had pushed, and they had ended up exactly where Nigel wanted them.

Nowhere for Adam to run, nowhere he can hide from Nigel. No way to fight him off or ask him to stop, because Nigel has never given him the option.

Nigel throws the book in the trash, but he thinks about it for the rest of the day.

_____

Gabi looks at him funny. She’s been doing that a lot lately, twisted-up half-smiles that Adam cannot decipher.

“I worry about Nigel,” Gabi says, taking Adam’s hand. His sleeves slide up and she stares at his wrists, even though there is nothing to see.

“I worry about him too,” Adam says, “His job is very dangerous.”

“He works at a strip club, correct?” Gabi’s frown has drawn tight lines across her face. Adam wishes she wouldn’t look at him like that. He doesn’t understand it, and so he doesn’t like it.

“He owns a strip club. I don’t know what his actual job title is. He doesn’t like it when I talk about it.” Nigel has interrupted more than one Skype call with Harlan, who has taken to asking probing questions about Nigel in the past week or so.

If anything, Gabi’s frown grows more pronounced. “Do you know what he does, Adam?”

“Yes.” Adam says, short and to the point. He doesn’t like to think about it. But he knows what Nigel does with his gun, knows that the bag of restraints is not there for Adam’s sexual gratification, even if they’ve been putting it to a lot of good use lately.

That, and he has literally walked in on Darko cutting a line of cocaine in Nigel’s office, when he was too stressed from the noise to wait to be invited in.

Small talk. Friendly conversation. Remember to turn the topics back around towards the other person.

“How is that guy you met?”

Gabi’s frown loosens up a little. “Charlie?” She says, “He is a nice man, a good man.” Her voice drops, low and sweet as she stares down at the table, cheeks red, “I like him.”

Blushes are one of those things that can come across a face for so many reasons. Embarrassment, shyness, sexual arousal. Adam has no idea which of those Gabi is feeling. Maybe all of them. But it doesn’t matter, really. As long as Gabi is happy.

“Good,” Adam says with a bright smile, “I’m glad.”

And if the topic never gets back to Nigel, if Gabi is distracted by a dozen questions about Charlie, well… Adam is not much of a liar, but he can keep secrets too, and the truth of Nigel’s job is safe with him.

_____ He doesn’t mention it to Nigel. Nigel worries too much, has too much stress in his day-to-day life, and Adam didn’t tell Gabi anything, anyway. Instead, Adam putters around the kitchen, attempting to make something for dinner that they’ll both be able to tolerate, something which contains absolutely no frozen cheese. He’s always liked that word, ‘putters.’ The occasional unusual word choice, solely within his own head, is the closest Adam gets to whimsy. Externally, he is eminently practical, speaking as quickly and efficiently as he can, whatever he can do to get the largest amount of information across in the smallest amount of time.

But in his head, Adam can be whimsical, which is another fun word he never has a chance to say. Whimsical, putter, cantankerous-

Adam is off on another tangent, this time in his own head, and it takes him a full fifteen seconds to realize Nigel is staring at him from the doorway, arms folded.

“What?” Adam asks, blushing as he turns back to the chicken he’s meant to be seasoning.

“I said,” Nigel repeats, “That we should have a safeword.”

“A what?” Adam asks, distracted by the stubborn cap of the pepper refusing to twist. He knows a lot of interesting words. Capricious, existentialism…

“A safeword. A word for… You know, for that stuff we do.”

“We do a lot of ‘stuff,’ Nigel.” The pepper cap finally gives. Adam hums happily and sprinkles some over the chicken.

Nigel sounds slightly more strained when he speaks again. “The stuff… The sex stuff. And the… punishments. We should have a safeword. In case you want me to stop.”

The salt canister comes open a lot quicker than the pepper. In fact, Adam startles so badly that he opens it too far, to the wide-mouthed hole instead of the tiny ones for sprinkling. He whirls, spilling a heap of salt over the chicken and the counter. “Why would I want you to _stop?_ ” He asks, horrified.

Nigel, red-faced, grabs the salt shaker from Adam’s hand and rights it on the countertop. He hurries to wipe up the spilled salt, although the chicken is a lost cause. Adam makes no move to help, staring at Nigel with wide eyes.

“I don’t want you to stop,” Adam tells him, “Please don’t stop, I enjoy it. It’s sexually exciting and it helps me relax, especially when I’m stressed, and- “

Nigel’s big, heavy, comforting hands land on Adam’s shoulders. Adam shuts up immediately, zeroing in on a lock of hair grazing against Nigel’s cheekbones. His heart is pounding. He doesn’t know what to do.

“I don’t want to stop,” Nigel promises him, and the tension leaves Adam in a breath of relief. Adam sinks forward, pressing his forehead against Nigel’s shoulder.

“Good,” He mumbles into Nigel’s sweater, “I think I’d be very angry with you.”

Nigel runs a hand through Adam’s hair. He doesn’t tug the way Adam likes, but he keeps combing his fingers through the curls until Adam feels limp against him. “Safewords are important,” Nigel finally says, “Other people who do this _always_ use them. Then you can stop me if you’re uncomfortable- “

“I’m never uncomfortable with you,” Adam interrupts. It is not entirely truthful, but he does not know how to explain that sometimes, ‘uncomfortable’ is exactly how he likes to feel with Nigel. He does not know how to put that into words that will make sense to anyone else.

Nigel keeps going. “Well, if I push too far- “

“I like it when you push!”

Nigel laughs and shakes his head. “Fine, we’ll play it your way.” He spins Adam, so that Adam’s back is braced against his chest. One arm wraps around Adam’s shoulders, a line across his throat, not pushing but very present. The other comes up to trap a hand over Adam’s mouth. “Shh,” Nigel murmurs, pressing his lips against Adam’s jaw, “Hush and let me talk, alright, darling?”

Adam cannot answer, of course, but he hums and closes his eyes, leaning back into Nigel’s embrace.

“Just a word, darling. Just something to stop if it’s too much. It doesn’t mean I’ll never hurt you, or tie you up. But now I can do it and know you have a way out, if you need it.”

But he’ll never need it. He keeps saying that to Nigel, and Nigel doesn’t seem to get it. Adam loves everything about the two of them together, even if it hurts, even if he’s crying. He loves that Nigel cares enough to make sure Adam gets a ride to lunch every single work day, so that he never misses a chance to talk to Gabi. He loves that Nigel bought twenty pounds of Adam’s favorite mac and cheese, and then made Adam try shrimp cocktail for dinner instead. He loves that when he turned out to hate shrimp cocktail, Nigel had hand-fed him the mac and cheese with Adam draped gleefully across his lap.

He loves that Nigel has big heavy hands, that Nigel will strike and pin and hurt him. He loves the complete loss of control.

He loves that Nigel bought him noise-cancelling headphones for bad nights, and that Nigel has always seemed to know just how to care for him, even though Adam never actually sat him down and explained Asperger’s to him. Adam had never needed to.

He loves everything about Nigel, and he will never, _ever_ want to stop. Even if it hurts. Even if it feels like too much. He trusts Nigel to take him to the edge of pain and pleasure and then back again, and he does not for one second want the power to make him stop. He wants Nigel, fierce and intimidating and unrestrained. Nothing ever holding him back.

“Give me a word,” Nigel whispers, tugging at the soft lobe of Adam’s ear with his sharp teeth. Instead, Adam breaks his hold, whirling around and tackling him.

“I’m not going to do that,” Adam tells him, pressing him up against the fridge. He watches the frown that flickers across Nigel’s face with barely-concealed glee. “I’m not going to do what you’re telling me, and you don’t like that.”

The frown vanishes in a snort of laughter. “You little brat,” Nigel growls, “You’re _trying_ to get into trouble.”

Adam grins and nods. “You’ll have to catch me first,” He says, and races for the hall. He can hear Nigel behind him, laughter and heavy footsteps.

They forget, for an hour, for two, about safewords and practicalities. The way things are meant to be done. They’ve never been really good at that anyway, and by the time Adam is riding Nigel, hands held tight behind his back with one of Nigel’s rarely-used ties, he thinks maybe Nigel has forgotten the whole thing.

Nigel hasn’t.

_____ It’s not that Adam doesn’t understand, Nigel realizes a few days later. He thought maybe that was it, maybe Adam was getting stuck on the concept of ‘stopping’ and Nigel just had to clarify that he didn’t mean ‘stopping altogether.’ But after a few more conversations, he realizes that’s not it at all.

Adam understands what a safeword is, now that Nigel has explained it. He knows what it is and why people have them. He just… doesn’t want one.

The thought is baffling to Nigel, who has never liked being out of control. His brief experiments with bondage had left him uncomfortable and panicked, and the single time a lover had swatted him on the ass, playful as it was, had found them thrown out of Nigel’s apartment altogether. It is completely unfathomable that Adam should not want an out, should not find comfort in being able to stop a situation completely. In fact, it seems the opposite is true: The idea of being able to stop Nigel upsets Adam so greatly that he will do anything to change the conversation.

They’re having a _lot_ of sex lately.

Still, Nigel keeps trying. He has to. If there’s one thing he learned from that terrible, terrible book, it’s that safewords are supposed to be important. _Supposed to be._

(There are apparently two more books in the series. Nigel cannot decide if the potential to learn more about how these kinks are supposed to be done outweighs the fact that they’re fucking terrible. They lurk in his Amazon cart, mocking him.)

He tries every tactic. He lulls Adam into a false sense of security, curled up on the couch with Adam in his lap, Adam’s wrists held tight in one of Nigel’s hands. Restraining him, not for sex, but for comfort and relaxation. Adam’s eyelids are heavy, his smile, content. There’s a space program on the TV that Nigel has seen six times by now, but which usually holds Adam’s rapt attention regardless. Adam stares at it dreamily, much more preoccupied with nuzzling his face up under Nigel’s jaw. It’s a perfect moment.

“If we _did_ have one, though,” Nigel murmurs into Adam’s hair, “A safeword, I mean. What would yours be? Hypothetically.”

The carefully relaxed state he has worked Adam into vanishes in mere seconds. Adam tenses in his arms, glaring at his collarbone. “I don’t want one,” He says, stubborn as always.

“I know, I know, darling,” Nigel reassures him, “Just a hypothetical, a thought. Call it curiosity.”

Adam settles a bit. “ _Just_ curiosity?”

“Cross my heart,” Nigel promises. It’s only a bit of a fib, anyway, he _is_ curious. “Everyone is different. Some people use a traffic light system, you know, green for good, yellow to slow down, red to stop, and others use something more personalized.” It’s a good system, in Nigel’s opinion, and he has hopes that the idea of a safeword merely pausing instead of stopping will tempt Adam.

It does not.

“Why not just say stop?” Adam muses

“Well, sometimes that’s part of the fun. Saying stop when you don’t really mean it.”

Adam considers this for a long moment, long enough that Nigel starts to get a bit nervous. If Adam decides this is a game he wants to play, Nigel’s going to have a heart attack. He cannot imagine continuing on while Adam begs him to stop, if Adam refuses a real safeword. Nor can he imagine disappointing Adam.

Darko has called him ‘whipped’ before. Nigel tries not to think about it.

“Having a personalized word seems silly,” Adam finally decides, “What if you forgot it? Or your partner did? Then there’s no point.”

Oh good, something else for Nigel to worry about and lose sleep over. “I’d never forget a word you gave me,” He promises, and hopes it’s true. “Add it to the tattoos, if we had to.”

“I don’t want you to get a tattoo of a random word, Nigel,” Adam says with a frown. “I’m just saying, why have a word at all? Surely ‘I’m safewording’ would get the point across just as well.”

“Well it’s all part of the fun, isn’t it? Having a word that means something to you and your partner.”

Adam shakes his head, sinking back into Nigel. “No, I don’t think that sounds fun. If I had a safeword, it would be ‘safeword.’”

Nigel does not roll his eyes. He has known Adam far too long to roll his eyes at something like this.

He really really _wants_ to, though.

Instead, he releases Adam’s wrists, hugging him tight to his chest instead. “That would be an excellent choice,” he tries.

Adam has not learned the same careful politeness that Nigel has. He _does_ roll his eyes. “I’m not _actually_ picking a safeword, Nigel. You said it was hypothetical.”

Nigel groans. “Adam, you can’t just rely on me to… to psychically predict your moods.”

“That’s not what I’m asking you to do,” Adam says, frustrated. “You already do what I’m asking. You know me. You know when it’s too much.”

“But one day, I might not!” Nigel says. It comes out louder than he means it to, an irritated yell. “I could fuck up, Adam, I could hurt you.”

“You’re not going to hurt me,” Adam insists, and Nigel sees red.

He hauls Adam up with him, dragging him down the hall with a tight grip on his arm. Adam doesn’t protest, although Nigel can see him wincing. Nigel wonders what it would take to get an actual complaint from him, if there’s a line somewhere that he could cross. Nigel would stop if Adam asked him to. It wouldn’t even have to be an actual safeword, he could just tell Nigel ‘no,’ and Nigel would stop.

( _He thinks. He **hopes**. He lays awake at night, staring at the ceiling, wondering if maybe he wouldn’t. If maybe there’s nothing good or kind or **right** left inside him. He does not regret the life he leads, but he fears what he will do to keep Adam close…)_

But Adam never seems to want to tell him no. He keeps his mouth shut, merely looks at Nigel with wide, curious eyes as Nigel strips them both ( _clothes in the **fucking** basket, mostly) _and drags him to the bed, drags him over Nigel’s lap like a disobedient child.

He binds Adam’s hands with the cuffs they now keep in the bedside drawer, pins his legs so he can’t flail and hurt himself. Because _Nigel_ is certainly going to hurt him.

Adam doesn’t struggle, but he lets out a strained gasp when Nigel’ s hand comes down across his backside. Nigel does not pull his punches, not this time. No warm up for Adam, nothing but the crack of Nigel’s hand against his pale and delicate skin.

“You can stop this,” Nigel growls, holding Adam’s hands steady. It’s the only indulgence he offers Adam, the width of his palm for Adam to wrap his fingers around. “I want you to remember that.”

Adam yelps and squirms as Nigel strikes him, as Nigel paints his skin red. Twenty. Twenty-five. Nigel hits him for the thirtieth time and then reaches to feel the dampness on Adam’s cheeks. Adam has started to cry, an unavoidable physical response, but he does not tell Nigel to stop.

Nigel reaches for his belt, laid neatly on the bed besides them. Adam hadn’t said anything. Nigel had wondered if he hadn’t noticed, but now Adam tenses, bracing himself. Nigel hesitates.

“It doesn’t have to be like this, baby…” Nigel tries, “You said you wanted it to be up to me. Maybe I want more. Maybe I like more than you can take.”

Adam huffs out a breath. Nigel stares down at him, amazed he can manage to sound so disbelieving without a single word.

But Nigel has never struck him with anything but his hand before, and Adam did not have the childhood Nigel did. He doesn’t know what the belt feels like. But Nigel does.

“This is your choice, not mine,” Nigel says as he folds the belt over itself, “You can stop this, Adam. Any time you want.”

Nigel’s hands are trembling. He is frustrated, angry even. It makes it easy for him to make the choice he has to make.

Adam goes almost painfully still as the belt leaves a sharp line across his ass. For several long seconds, he is still. Then he jerks, with a loud, pained yowl, thrashing where Nigel has him pinned. He does not say stop. Nigel hits him again before he can think too long about it. And again, and again.

There is something beautiful about Adam in pain, even now. He is erotic, in every twist of his body, every pained cry.

The hard line of his obvious erection against Nigel’s thigh.

Adam is sobbing, loud, wrecked noises, pitching higher and higher with every blow. He sounds desperate, unsteady. He struggles against Nigel’s grip, as if he thinks he can break free, escape.

He does not say no. He is _never_ going to say no. Because, as unfathomable as it may be to Nigel, Adam trusts him.

He wants to be the kind of person Adam can trust. Even if he doesn’t entirely trust _himself_. Even if he is still not sure what he would do if Adam ever tried to leave him. He can, at the very least, give Adam _this_.

Nigel hits Adam one more time, because he can feel how much Adam wants him to. Then, he throws the belt across the room. Adam is bruised almost black in places, hiccupping, limp over Nigel’s lap now that he’s seen there’s no way to run. Nigel rubs a tentative hand over Adam’s backside, and Adam shudders with a low, needy whine.

When Nigel pictured this in his head, he’d fucked Adam afterward, driving into him in deep, rapid thrusts, hips flush against Adam’s bruises. But in his head, Adam had used his safeword and they’d shifted to the next step together. Here, in reality, Adam is tear-stained and gasping, mouth struggling with words that won’t come, and Nigel can’t do it.

He lays Adam out over the bed, face down. Adam nuzzles into a pillow and starts to tremble. They have a cream for this, and Nigel fetches it, rubbing it into Adam’s bruises with gentle touches until Adam’s breathing finally evens out.

“I d-don’t want it,” Adam whispers, “The safeword- “

“I know you don’t,” Nigel says, trying for calm but unable to keep a hint of frustration out of his voice.

“No, wait!” Adam reaches back and grabs Nigel’s wrist, stilling him. “I don’t want it,” He says again, “I don’t think I’ll ever say it. But I would, if you wanted me to. If it’s that important.”

Surprisingly, it isn’t. Adam has proven his point, and proven it well. He doesn’t need to stop Nigel, because Nigel could not ever bring himself to truly hurt him.

“You don’t have to say it,” Nigel says, pressing a kiss to the dip at the base of Adam’s spine, just above the curve of his ass, “But if you ever say it, I’ll stop.”

“I know you will,” Adam whispers.

Nigel drapes over him, ignoring Adam’s pained whine- Adam could stop him if he wanted to, and until then, Nigel is going to do exactly what he likes. What they both like.

“I’m not going to fuck you,” He whispers in Adam’s ear, “Not tonight. But tomorrow, when you’re sore and aching, I’ll slide myself right into you, until you beg. Would you like that?”

Adam sighs happily into the pillow. “Yes, Nigel.”

_____ It goes easier, then, when they reach their agreement. Nigel gets less tense. He stops scowling across the apartment when he thinks Adam isn’t looking, stops bickering with Adam constantly.

Nigel is rougher with him now. He fucks Adam while he’s bruised. Fucks him when Adam’s already come. He hurts him in a thousand glorious, different ways. Leaves marks all over Adam’s body, paints his pale skin with dark bruises.

Adam loves it. Loves _him_. Loves sex and movies and trying new foods and hating them. Loves his life.

They talk about a wedding. They talk about _not_ having a wedding. There’s only about five people who’d be invited, between the two of them, and it’s not worth it. They plan for France, instead, and then Spain and Italy and London.

Then they plan for just _one_ country, because really, Adam would hate being away from home long enough to country-hop, he’s pretty sure.

Still, there’s a lot to do. They have to request time off of work (Well, Adam does. Nigel works whenever he feels like it and not a second more), arrange for the marriage license (not an easy feat from abroad), and book hotels.

Adam finds the file while searching for his passport, lost in the jumble when Nigel moved in.

It’s an innocuous little thing, unlabeled, just a manila folder. Adam feels no innate curiosity, no hint that something is off. He would have put it away, unread, forgotten, if he hadn’t dropped it.

The pages spill out, all across the floor. Crisp white papers with tiny black letters, handwritten notes… And pictures of Adam.

Pictures of him on his way into work, on his way out of the apartment. Pictures of him asleep, in the tiny bed he and Nigel had swapped for a bigger one. Adam had not posed for any of these pictures.

His entire life is detailed in the pages. His work history, his old address, his blood type. Adam doesn’t even know his own blood type, but apparently Nigel does. It’s in the file. _Everything_ is in the file.

“I can explain.”

Adam turns to stare. Nigel hovers in the doorway, one hand frozen, half-reaching for Adam. As if he’d thought better of it.

“What is this?”

“It’s just- “

“Why do you have this?!” Adam’s voice comes out strangled, twisted and warped beyond recognition. He feels, for the very first time since meeting Nigel… Not fear, not quite. Stress. Anxiety. The thick tension of not knowing, of not understanding.

Nigel takes a step forward. Adam scrambles to his feet to put more distance between them.

“You have to understand,” Nigel begs, eyes wide, “It’s a dangerous business, Adam, I had to be sure- “

“You shouldn’t have this!” Adam yells, “There’s no reason for you- Is this a game to you?”

“No, baby, never- “

“Dumb Adam!” Adam turns his back on Nigel, then thinks better of it. He circles the room, looping around to get closer to the door. He feels trapped, his skin too tight. “Dumb, stupid Adam!” Adam’s hands are shaking. He digs a line of scratches down his arm.

“Please breathe, sweetheart, take a deep breath in for me…”

Against his own better judgement, Adam mimics Nigel’s breathing. It doesn’t calm him. Instead, it brings a new realization to the front- He’d never once mentioned Asperger’s to Nigel He’d never had to. Nigel had always just known how to treat him.

Because it was in the… The _fucking_ file.

Adam reaches for the closest object and throws it. It’s a book, thick and heavy. Tiny words in English that have always soothed Adam. Today, they leave a dent in the wall.

“Baby, please- “

“Don’t call me that!” Adam throws another book. “Don’t… You have my _social security number!_ You knew everything about me, and I didn’t… I really thought…” Adam doesn’t know what he thought. He doesn’t even know what he’s thinking _now_.

“It wasn’t me,” Nigel swears, “I didn’t put the file- Baby, I didn’t even _read_ it! I saw a couple of the pictures and then I put it away. Darko had the boys check you out, make sure you were clean, weren’t a rival. I told them to leave you alone, I swear, I didn’t even know they were doing it until- “

Adam can’t listen to him. His head is pounding, thunk thunk thunk. He can’t breathe.

“I have to go,” He hears himself say. Nigel goes still, his hands dropping to his sides.

“Don’t,” Nigel whispers. His voice sounds like it’s broken, cracked and raspy. Like he’s sick. “Babe- Adam, don’t. I’ll go, okay? I’ll go sleep in my office, and- “

Adam can’t listen to him. He’s a liar. He tricked Adam. He knew everything and Adam was dumb dumb dumb for believing him.

Adam’s talking, rambling out loud. Nigel makes a sound that’s almost a whine, almost crying. “No, Adam, you’re not dumb, you’re the most brilliant man I’ve ever met, I’m dumb, I’m terrible, I’m so fucking sorry- “

Adam flees. He runs for the door, kicks his shoes on and scrambles down the stairs. Nigel doesn’t follow him. Adam is too far gone to know if he’s hurt by it.

Everything is wrong.

_____

Gabi isn’t asleep when the call comes, but she’s drowsy. She’s curled up under Charlie’s arm, safe and warm and drifting.

Adam shatters her right out of it.

“I need you,” He says, and Gabi doesn’t hesitate.

“You know,” Charlie says on the way out, “I read somewhere that it can take an average of seven tries for someone to leave their abuser.”

Gabi’s read that too. She tries not to think about it, but it haunts her dreams. “What can we do, except be there for him?”

Charlie hesitates, hand on the car door. “I… I might have an idea.”

They pick Adam up at a park, too far from his apartment for Gabi to be comfortable. He looks exhausted. He winces when he curls up in the back seat. Charlie is always too cruel to Gabi’s poor car, but she lets him drive so she can tug Adam against her in the back seat and let him rest his head against her shoulder.

“Did he hurt you?” She whispers. Adam frowns down at his lap. He looks confused.

“No, not tonight,” He mumbles towards the floor. Gabi had known, of course, but to hear it aloud is another matter entirely.

“Do you want to talk about tonight?” She prods, “What made you want to leave?”

“We had a fight,” Adam tells her. “Or… I had a fight? Can you have a fight all by yourself?”

“Yes,” Charlie says from the front seat. Gabi does not ask for clarification, her attention drawn to Adam’s shaking breaths.

“He lied to me,” Adam continues, “He lied, he hid, I hate it I hate it I hate it- “

Gabi cuts him off by hugging him tighter. A lie seems like such a little thing, after the bruises, but maybe that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Maybe Adam could no longer ignore things once they were out in the open, spoken word, provable fact.

Adam leans into her, quiet and still, seeking comfort. Gabi provides as much as she can.

They drive for a while, Adam quiet, thoughtful. Gabi watches the signs go by and lets him think.

“Thank you for coming for me,” He says, somewhere around Ionești, “I think I’m ready to go home.”

Gabi hesitates. Charlie meets her eyes in the rearview mirror. He is so kind, so caring. Willing to help a man he has never met, because Gabi loves him. He gives her strength.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Gabi says, gentle, soft. Adam frowns and pulls away from her.

“I have to go home,” Adam says, “We have to be at the hotel on Friday, and I’m not packed.”

“We’re not taking you home, buddy,” Charlie says. He’s watching the road, but Gabi can see concern in the way his fingers tap against the steering wheel. “We’re getting you out. Keeping you safe.”

“I don’t understand.” Adam looks between the two of them. His hands start to twist in the seatbelt.

“We’re taking a trip,” Gabi tries. Charlie sums it up much more concisely:

“That asshole won’t ever lay a hand on you again.”

Adam’s hands stop, drop heavy and startled into his lap. He never meets Gabi’s eyes, but he stares right through her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Nigel reads 50 Shades of Grey. He hates it, but he does consider reading the other two. And he *learns something* from it. *Shudder*. On a more serious note: Vague references to Nigel's (bad) job. Refusal to have a safe word (on Adam's part). Spanking with both a hand and a belt, with the specific intent of trying to force a safeword. Adam is 100% consenting, but is definitely overwhelmed and hurting by the end of it. BAD. BDSM. ETIQUETTE.
> 
> Ahhhh Beth. Adam was happy to see her and happy to see her go.
> 
> I could not resist the urge to have Nigel read 50 shades, especially since I technically stole a plot point. But we will get to that.
> 
> Mihaela was not happy that Nigel threw her book away and he had to pay for a new copy. He got her an autographed one because he's Extra like that.
> 
> My safeword is in fact safeword for the same reasons Adam gives. 
> 
> That spanking scene. I have been planning it from the beginning of the fic and it has mutated. Originally, it was much more iffy consent, with Nigel saying things like 'If you had a safeword this would be over by now' instead of what he says in the fic. In that version, Adam would have asked him to stop only to have Nigel keep going because it wasn't a safeword. That is probably more in line with the original Rulebreaker oneshot, honestly, but at this point I think it's safe to say these two parts of the series no longer share a universe. Oops. Blame Nigel, he refused to be the loving but abusive asshole I wanted him to be.
> 
> The file is where I rip off 50 Shades, and do it better because HE HAS FILES ON ALL HIS SUBS INCLUDING YOUR BANK ACCOUNT INFORMATION, RUN ANASTASIA! RUN!
> 
> Adam's totally gonna go back, but Nigel didn't put the file together and burned it the second Adam left. It's different, damn it!
> 
>  
> 
> Gabi and Charlie are working on limited information and Adam is not correcting them! Reminder that Adam knows Gabi has seen the bruises before (She asked about them). It never came up in the fic itself (maybe that means I should edit!) but Adam assumes Gabi knows it's a sex thing. She does not. Oops. 
> 
>  
> 
> I like Charlie. Heck off. He's doing the right thing here, sort of (maybe don't kidnap people even if it's for a good cause).


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings at the end!

Adam doesn’t come home. Nigel sits up and waits and stares at the wall and he _doesn’t come home_. Nigel has no idea where he could have gone. He didn’t take anything when he left, no clothes, no books. His laptop is still charging in the living room. His wallet is still on the dresser. His phone is nowhere to be found, but Nigel called seventeen times in a row after Adam left, and got no answer.

Nigel’s skin feels tight and rough. He checks the nightstand for the third time, though he already knows what he will find there. Adam’s gun, carefully cleaned and otherwise completely untouched.

Adam is alone on the streets of Bucharest, unarmed, no cash. Screening Nigel’s calls.

Nigel grabs one of Adam’s fucking purses - _It’s a messenger bag, Nigel –_ and shoves things into it. Clothes, pajamas, wallet, laptop. The gun. If Adam wants to leave- No. There is nothing in Nigel that can let that happen. Maybe that’s dark, or fucked up, but if Adam wants to leave, Nigel will fucking _drag_ him home, if he has to. He can’t. He can’t let Adam walk away from him. He doesn’t care that it makes him all the dark and nasty things he thinks about himself, he does not care that it takes their games from a lifestyle into abuse, he _cannot_ lose Adam.

But if Adam needs a night or two away, well, Nigel can respect that. He’ll pay for the fucking hotel room himself, but his darling is gonna be safe and comfortable.

A package of frozen mac & cheese, awkwardly crushed into the top of the overstuffed bag, and Nigel is ready. Knowing Adam, he’s laid out somewhere in a park to look at the stars. Might not even know how long he’s been out, if he’s upset enough, and doesn’t _that_ twist guilt into Nigel’s stomach?

Nigel wanders the streets. It’s stupid, really. Bucharest is a large city and Adam is one man. He could be anywhere. But Nigel knows his favorite places. He circles the park, the café where Adam and Gabi eat lunch, and is just getting desperate enough to check in with Darko at the club when his phone rings.

_____

1 2 3 4 5

Adam is processing. Counting, like Nigel tells him to when he starts to panic. He closes his eyes and tries to relax, although Gabi’s arms around him have started to feel more like sandpaper than comfort.

6 7 8 9 10

“I would like to go home,” He says again, and his voice comes out slightly strangled with panic. Gabi and gives Charlie a look that Adam _cannot read_ , why do people always do that to him? How do you say words without ever making a sound?

11 12 13 14 15

“Adam,” Gabi says, in her too-soft voice, “Why don’t we talk about it in the morning, hmm? You might feel better after a night of sleep.”

16 17 18 19 20

Adam is never going to be able to sleep without a heavy body, half beside him and half over him, pressing him into the sheets until he feels like he’s being squashed. He thought, at first, that he would never adjust, and now he does not know how to sleep without it. “Why are you doing this? You can’t just… I want to go home, you can’t keep me, that’s-“

 _That’s kidnapping_ , Adam wants to say, but it sounds so ridiculous to apply such a word to _Gabi_ , of all people. His chest feels tight.

21 22 23 24 25

Charlie pulls into a motel, blinking neon sign, too bright, Adam will _not_ sleep here. Charlie turns in his seat. His face has drawn into a frown. He looks like Gabi.

“He was hurting you, Adam,” Charlie says, and his voice is also too soft, it stabs at Adam’s ears, he is going to panic he _cannot panic_. “You know that’s not okay, right?”

26 27 28 29 30

Adam’s head hurts. Nigel had said, Nigel had _said_ , other people do this. They’re normal. Other people do this all the time. And Gabi, Gabi had told him he could talk to her about sex. Maybe she found out they used to do it without a safeword? Or maybe she didn’t know that other people did this, that they were normal, Nigel said they were normal and Adam trusts Nigel with everything he is, or he had before the file, the _stupid file_ why did Adam leave?

31 32 33 34 35

Adam’s hands twist and shake in his lap. Gabi holds him close. She smells good, something fruity in her shampoo, not too strong like some of the girls in the office. But she doesn’t smell like smoke and cologne and the splash of vodka from sloppy bartending. It’s not soothing.

“Nobody gets to hurt you,” Charlie continues, “People who love you don’t hurt you, alright? You’re worth more than that.”

36 37 38 39 _40-_

“You don’t even _know_ me!” It burst out of Adam, the first thing he can think of to say. Because it’s true, Charlie doesn’t know him, or Nigel, he doesn’t know how much Nigel loves him, how Nigel says it so often that it slips into Adam’s dreams, how Nigel holds him and kisses him and hurts him, hurts him until his whole body is on fire, hurts Adam until he forgets what it is like to walk straight, tall, without a bruise. Adam bears signs of Nigel’s love all over his body, and Charlie doesn’t know, he can’t just-

41 42 43 44 45

It was the wrong thing to say, regardless. Gabi and Charlie both look at Adam with pinched faces and downturned mouths.

“You _are_ ,” Gabi tells Adam firmly, “You’re worth so much more, Adam, you deserve so much better.”

46 47 48 49 50

Deep breath in, out. And again. “I want _Nigel_ ,” Adam says, as clear and honest as he can manage, as if maybe he will hit on the right tone of voice, the right facial expression, the right secret neurotypical sign that will make them understand. “I want to go _home_.”

Gabi makes a noise. Adam realizes, horrified, that she is crying, her eyes red-rimmed and damp.

“Just tonight,” She pleads, “Just one night, okay? Get some rest and have breakfast with us, _talk_ to us, and if you still want to go back-“

“Gabi-“ Charlie says, but Gabi holds up a hand.

“-If you still want to go back, after we have talked, we will take you. We won’t hold you against your will. Just give us one night, Adam, _please_.”

51 52 53 54 55

Adam knows what Nigel would do. How he would yell and argue and demand to be taken home _right now_ , until they give in or kick him out of the car.

But he is not Nigel. He’s just Adam. And he can’t do that to Gabi, or even to Charlie, both of whom just keep _staring_ at him, like he holds some sort of secret.

Adam is not Nigel, but he learned from him. He cannot rage and scream, but what he can do-

56 57 _58-_

“Okay, one night.”

-is lie.

_____

It’s late, late enough that the drunks are beginning to wobble home. Late at night, on a crowded street in downtown Bucharest, Adam’s name flashes across his phone.

“Hello?” Nigel says, and his voice shakes like it hasn’t since his childhood. “Adam, darling, I’m so sorry, please talk to me, baby.”

A shaky breath rasps down the line. _“I want to go home_.” Adam’s voice, his exact timbre and cadence, the rhythm of his words. Nigel nearly collapses on the sidewalk.

“You can come home, darling,” Nigel says, “Of course you can come home.”

_“It’s too far.”_

Of course it’s too far, if Adam’s been walking for _hours_. Nigel laughs, without a trace of humor. “Don’t worry, I’ll come get you. Where are you?”

 _“Outside,”_ The answer, when it comes, is hesitant. The sound Adam makes when he doesn’t want to say something that will upset Nigel. The last time he tried this, he’d been in the hospital.

“ _Where_ outside?” Nigel demands, nearly a growl. He should be patient, kind, understanding. He can’t quite manage it. His relief at Adam’s safety is being slowly overwhelmed by an unexpected anger. There is a part of him, some vile nasty part, that is _furious_ at Adam for fleeing into the night like he did, when Nigel would have left. Wandering off with no way to fend for himself. Nigel wants…

The things Nigel wants are twisted, even for them. Beyond the boundaries of what they accept as their dynamic. He will not punish Adam for fleeing to protect himself from emotional damage. But he _wants to_.

 _“Walking away from the motel,”_ Adam says.

“ _Which_ motel?” Nigel interrupts, before Adam can talk circles around him any further.

Adam rattles off a mangled mispronunciation of a town several hours outside the city. Nigel feels icy. “ _I had to wait for Gabi and Charlie to fall asleep. Gabi didn’t want me to call you. She made me promise I would talk to her in the morning before I made any decisions.”_

 _Decisions about what?_ Nigel thinks, but doesn’t ask. He doesn’t care. There are more important questions.

“Who the fuck is Charlie, darling? Why didn’t Gabi want you to call?”

 _“Charlie is Gabi’s boyfriend. They picked me up when I was upset. But they didn’t want to take me home. I kept asking, but Charlie said…. Charlie said…”_ Adam trails off. He is not crying, not that Nigel can tell, but there is a wounded quality to his voice that makes Nigel’s fist clench. _“Charlie said if you loved me, you wouldn’t hurt me. He said you wouldn’t lay a hand on me again.”_

They know. They know, and they have done what Nigel should have done, extracted Adam from the situation, kept him safe, kept him-

But Adam makes a noise, a choked little sound, and _now_ he is crying. “ _I want to come home.”_ The thoughts in Nigel’s head stop, rearrange themselves.

Nigel had worried, once, that he was bad for Adam. That only someone fucked up could do these things. And perhaps, in a way, that is true. But he also knows that other people do this, that it’s normal, and that Adam has never been fucking happier or felt safer than when Nigel has him, and _fuck_ Charlie, and _fuck_ Gabi for thinking just because they like it a little rough, Adam doesn’t know his own fucking-

Nigel makes himself take a deep breath. “You’re going to come home, darling, I promise you.”

“ _I started walking,”_ Adam mutters, _“It’s a very long drive, but I needed to get some air.”_

Nigel can’t help a soft chuckle. He has already turned back towards the apartment, where his car is waiting. “Go back to the motel, darling, I’ll call and arrange a room for you. You shouldn’t be wandering the street like this.”

_____

Nigel’s voice is comforting. It’s almost like having him here. Adam glances back over his shoulder. He can almost see the glow of the motel sign, far off on the horizon. He could go back, get some sleep. Nigel would make sure he had a bed, away from Charlie and Gabi. He’d still be alone, though, and without his pajamas.

He could keep walking, of course, but Nigel is probably very upset with him for running off. He’s probably going to get spanked for that. If he continued to disobey, walk down the dark and empty highway, he’d probably get the belt.

Adam cannot help the little squirm of arousal. Technically, there is a difference between pain for pleasure and pain for punishment. Nigel hits differently for each, and Adam feels differently when each happens. But that does not mean that punishment doesn’t send heat to Adam’s belly, leave him tingling. It might be worth it, to keep walking, if it means having all of Nigel’s attention and beautiful strength focused on him.

But Adam is also very tired. Probably tired enough to pass out even without his usual comforts.

“Yes, Nigel,” He says, and hears another low, breathless laugh come through the phone.

 _“There’s my good boy._ ”

Adam hums happily. It’s nice to be good. Even if Nigel had worried him, with the file- And they’re still going to have to talk about that, Adam is still _furious,_ but now that he has calmed, he knows…

Nigel loves him. No matter what advantage Nigel might have had, what secrets he might have kept. No matter the vast invasion of his privacy, Nigel _loves_ him. And Adam loves Nigel.

“I love you,” Adam says, clutching the phone tight to his ear. His eyes are still damp, his face still hot from the sudden burst of upset he’d felt. “Nigel, I love you. I’m sorry I didn’t stay to talk.”

 _“You were upset,”_ Nigel drawls, _“And I don’t blame you, darling, you be as angry as you like when you come home. But you **are** coming home. I’m coming to get you. I love you, too_.”

Adam smiles, though Nigel is not there to see it. His legs are trembling, and he’s so tired. He turns back towards the light of the motel, caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. The car rolls to a stop beside him, and Adam takes a wary step back before the car door opens to reveal Gabi’s terrified face.

“Adam,” She says, her voice cracking, “Adam why would you…” She shakes her head, cuts herself off. “I know you’re upset,” she says, reaching for him. Adam tries not to flinch, though he is very tired of being touched and handled tonight. “But we promised, didn’t we? If you still want to go home after breakfast, we’ll take you home.”

“I want to go home _now_ ,” Adam says, embarrassed by the slight whine that pitches his voice upwards. He can hear Nigel growl through the phone.

“ _Put her on, Adam.”_ He hisses, but Adam suspects that would not be a very good idea.

Charlie steps out of the driver’s seat, walking around towards Adam. This time, Adam does step back. He does not want to be hugged by Charlie, no amount of politeness will make him.

“Is that him?” Charlie asks, “The guy who did all this to you, is that him on the phone?”

Gabi shoots a wide-eyed look towards Charlie, and then looks back to Adam. She’s smiling, but Adam doesn’t know why, he knows she’s not happy. Her makeup is all smudged around her eyes, like she’s been crying. Adam feels a twinge of guilt. He thinks he’s worried everybody.

“Please, Adam,” Gabi says, taking Adam’s free hand in both of hers, “Just get in the car. We’ll go back to the motel and get some rest. Everything will be better in the morning.”

Adam fails to see how the passage of time will help the knot of stress in his chest. In his ear, Nigel rattles off a string of Romanian that Adam suspects is something foul. He follows it up with a threat, _“Don’t you dare get in that car, Adam_ -“

Adam is about to assure him he won’t, when Charlie yanks the phone out of his hand. He looks, as far as Adam can tell, furious. It would be incredibly flattering, to have a stranger so determined to defend Adam, if Adam could understand why they were defending him at all.

“Listen up, motherfucker!”

Gabi gives a little jerk at Charlie’s language, and goes back to hustling Adam into the car. Adam cannot walk back without his cell phone, since he needs Nigel to book a room, and Charlie does not appear willing to let it go anytime soon. Indeed, he looks like he might break it as he drops his voice and hisses down the line in low tones. Adam can hear only a little as he’s nudged into the backseat, but he catches his own name and a series of threats. Nigel’s response is entirely unintelligible, though Adam can tell from the volume that he is yelling. He hates when Nigel gets angry, though Nigel has always tried to direct it away from Adam. He hates when Nigel feels anything harsh or negative, as if somehow Adam was meant to keep him safe from such emotions, by virtue of his obedience.

Adam had disobeyed and now Nigel was angry, and though there were several other steps between the two, it was hard not to feel as though it was his own fault. Adam sinks against the seat back, watching Charlie pace and yell outside the vehicle.

“I’d like to see you fucking try!” is the last thing Charlie yells, before jabbing his thumb down on the ‘end call’ button. He tosses the phone to Gabi, still wrapped around Adam in the back seat. She takes it with a trembling hand.

“I know you wanted to go home, buddy, but your fucking boyfriend just threatened to put a hole in my head,” Charlie growls, throwing the car into drive.

Gabi draws in a shaking breath. “I’ve told you about him,” she tells Charlie, “The things I heard…”

“He won’t get near you,” Charlie swears, “Either of you. He doesn’t even know where to find us.”

Adam does not correct this assumption. He’s not thrilled that Nigel has devolved to threats, but he’s relatively confident that he won’t _actually_ shoot Adam’s best friend’s boyfriend. No matter how much Gabi and Charlie have completely diverted from what Adam knows of them.

Gabi and Charlie usher him back into the motel room and lock the door. It takes a long time for Gabi to fall back to sleep, curled up against Charlie’s side and held tight. Adam does not sleep, staring across the room towards the door. He does not understand why Gabi has done this to him, abducted him and trapped him here against his will, but he feels sorry for her. Particularly when the door begins to shake, and she jolts awake with a gasp.

_____

Nigel is practically shaking in his fury. He’d been on the road for over two hours, and he _still_ hadn’t settled, his heart pounding in his chest. How _dare_ some cunt-faced American tell him off like that, warn him off Adam like Adam didn’t make his own fucking decisions?

Nigel had needed to intimidate the desk boy a little bit, but he has Adam’s room number now, and he brings his fist down on the door again, over and over until he gets an answer.

The man who opens the door, just enough to slot his body into it and keep the other occupants out of sight, is a greasy little fuck half Nigel’s size. Oh, he’s tall, sure, and more muscular than Nigel would expect an American to be, but he’s still a scrawny little bitch next to Nigel. Nigel’s body comes from a rougher life than this motherfucker has ever known, and Nigel doesn’t wait to hear his whiny voice again before shoving forward.

“Where’s Adam?”

Grease-Faced Cunt nearly topples over, despite all his bravado. Nigel practically walks _through_ him to get into the room, his eyes landing on Adam almost immediately.

Adam looks like he hasn’t slept in days, poor thing. His cheekbones are red from where salty tears had dried his skin and he’d scratched at the irritant. He sits up on the far bad, clearly not as comfortable as the soft mattress Nigel had provided back home. Nigel wants to wrap Adam up in his arms and carry him all the way back to Bucharest. He also wants to belt him for how much he’d made Nigel worry.

He is going to do neither. His _plan_ was to get Adam into the car and have a conversation like fucking _adults_ , but Grease-Faced Cunt pops back up to derail that plan.

Grease-Faced Cunt, whose name is probably Charlie (not that Nigel cares), grabs Nigel by the shoulder and hauls him backwards. Nigel’s body slams into the door, shoving it closed in a surprisingly impressive show of strength. He drops Adam’s bag. It tumbles across the floor, Adam’s mac & cheese flopping out of the top. Charlie-Cunt gets right up in Nigel’s face, nearly chest to chest.

“You need to leave,” Charlie-Cunt growls, a chihuahua trying to intimidate a goddamned rottweiler, “Adam doesn’t want you here.”

Adam makes an offended noise, his sleepy-eyed glare focused on Charlie’s shoulders. Gabi has retreated further into the room, wrapping an arm around Adam that anyone could see is fucking unwelcome. She’s frowning at the mac & cheese like she’s never seen fucking _food_ before.”

“Think I’d rather hear that from Adam,” Nigel says.

“Too fucking bad,” Charlie says, and then the motherfucker hauls back and punches Nigel in the face.

Nigel isn’t entirely taken by surprise, but they’re in close enough quarters that Charlie’s hit lands. Nigel’s head snaps back, and there are twin whimpers from across the room, neither Gabi nor Adam thrilled by the violence.

Nigel rubs at his eye, already tender and bruising, and bares his teeth. Charlie aims another punch, but Nigel is faster. He gets one hand in Charlie’s hair, just above his ear, and slams that greasy fucking face into the wall.

Gabi’s gasp is actually louder than Charlie’s startled grunt. Charlie comes back up swinging, actually manages to land a second good punch against Nigel’s jaw, but Nigel has scrapped far more than this fucker.

Nigel hears Gabi cry out as he gets Charlie pinned against the wall, one arm across his throat. He applies steady pressure, watching Charlie’s face go red. “You think he wouldn’t tell me where he was? Think you can just drag people off and hold them against their will in some sleezy motel?”

Charlie aims a fist at Nigel’s gut. Prepared for it, Nigel steps back, dragging Charlie with him and then slamming him skull first back into the wall.

“Oh, you think you’re tough shit, Charlie?” Nigel hisses, “I’ve fought bigger and better men than you.” Charlie is surprisingly sturdy, though. He’s still trying to scrap as Nigel presses his arm over Charlie’s Adam’s apple again, pressing down hard until Charlie starts to wheeze.

“You’re killing him!” Gabi shrieks.

“When I’m killing him, you’ll know,” Nigel spits back. He has no patience for her, either, not when she organized this whole fucking debacle.

“Nigel!” Adam yells. That sends a twinge of almost-shame through Nigel, but he has a lesson to teach. He pulls back just enough to repay the punch to the stomach. Unlike Charlie’s, Nigel’s hit lands.

“Nigel!”

“Not now, darling, I’m busy.” To Charlie, Nigel adds, “It didn’t have to be like this, you know. Picking my boy up, I can understand. I don’t like him out on these streets alone, bet you feel the same about your pretty lady. But you just couldn’t let it go, could you? Couldn’t mind your own business and drop him back home when he told you to.”

“Why,” Charlie wheezes, still glaring even as his hands come up to scrabble uselessly at the arm that chokes him, “So you could do this to _him_ instead? You’ll have to go through me, motherfucker.”

“I’m already _through_ you.” Nigel tells him. Charlie spits in his face, a thick, unpleasant glob of saliva that takes Nigel off guard enough for Charlie to swing them back around. He slams Nigel against the wall. They grapple for a minute, shoving and gripping at each other. Nigel’s earlier confidence in his own size and skill was not misplaced, but Charlie fights just as dirty, dirtier than Nigel expects from some American hippie-wannabe. He gets a knee up between Nigel’s thighs, hard enough to leave Nigel gasping, but not hard enough to topple him. Nigel sees red, tackling Charlie to the ground. They go over in a tangle of limbs, to a chorus of shouts from Adam and Gabi. Nigel fists a hand in Charlie’s hair and smacks his head against the ground, hard enough to daze and draw another pained groan from him.

Charlie probably has a budding concussion, not to mention the way Nigel pins Charlie’s hands under his knees. Nigel reaches for his gun anyway. He’s relatively certain he won’t shoot Charlie, he’s a fucker and an idiot but he’s let men walk with worse crimes to their names. Still, the extra weight in his hands is extra weight in an argument, and he’s tired of the catfight.

“Nigel, _stop_.” Nigel’s hand freezes, gun half out of the holster. Adam’s voice is calm, certain, and entirely unfamiliar. Nigel turns towards him, and the sight he sees punches the breath out of him harder than any greasy cunt ever could.

Adam is standing by the door, messenger bag by his feet, gun in hand. His stance is all wrong, grip too loose, but he looks entirely confident and self-assured. His hands don’t even tremble, which is not the only reason Nigel is certain Adam won’t shoot, but definitely lends some surety to an uncertain situation. He looks fucking _beautiful_ , Nigel’s deadly little angel. Nigel wants to worship him.

“I want you to stop, Nigel,” Adam says again, calm and steady. Nige knows from the look in his eyes that Adam understands, as much as Nigel does, how momentous the occasion is. Nigel slides his gun back into the holster and raises his hands.

“Anything for you, darling,” Nigel says as he rises to his feet. He doesn’t even kick Charlie, for good measure, which Nigel considers to be a remarkably mature action on his part. “You know that. Everything you want.”

“Everything I _need_ ,” Adam corrects with a knowing little smile, “But most of what I want, too.”

God he’s fucking brilliant. Nigel loves him, every piece of this cocky, mouthy boy who can play Nigel like a fucking fiddle. Submissive Nigel’s fucking _ass_ , if Adam didn’t know he ran this whole relationship before, he certainly does _now._ Nigel nods towards the gun.

“Your safety’s still on, darling.”

“You didn’t think I was going to shoot you, anyway,” Adam says, lowering the gun.

“Then why aim at all?”

Adam blushes faintly, the first sign of hesitance. “I saw it in the bag,” He admits, “And I thought you’d like it, since you keep asking me to carry it.”

“All you had to do was ask, but the pretty picture was very much appreciated.”

They’re both staring at each other, still grinning. Nigel wants to shove Adam back onto the grimy motel bed and have him right here.

“What,” Gabi says, in a voice hoarse from crying, “The _fuck?_ ”

Nigel glances over to her. Charlie has gotten back to his feet, rubbing at his head and bracing himself between Nigel and Gabi, as if he thinks Nigel might charge an _unarmed_ _woman_ half his size. Stupid cunt. Gabi, on the other hand, is peering around him with a puzzled expression, drawing lines of tension across her pretty face.

“I’m going home now,” Adam tells her, “I don’t understand why you did this, and I don’t like it. I don’t like the motel, and I haven’t gotten any sleep, and I don’t like that I kept asking to go home and you didn’t let me. I’m not very happy with you, Gabi.”

“He _beats_ you,” Gabi says, her voice trembling. “You’re covered in bruises, Adam, and look what he did to Charlie!”

“To be fair,” Nigel says, earning himself a glare from Gabi, “Charlie hit me first.”

Gabi disregards him entirely, turning a pleading expression on Adam. “I’m so worried about you, Adam. He’s been _hurting_ you.”

“Yes,” Adam says impatiently, “but only because I like it.”

Gabi freezes, going slightly pale. Her mouth drops open, but no words escape. Nigel looks from her to Charlie, each wearing slightly startled, confused expressions, and finally makes the connection.

“Oh for _fuck’s_ … Adam,” Nigel growls, “What’s your safeword?”

Adam stares at him, baffled. “You want to have that discussion _now_?”

“Tell them your safeword,” Nigel snaps. Adam rolls his eyes, the mix-up completely lost on him.

“I’ve told you, I don’t see the point in saying anything other than ‘I’m safewording.’ Everything else is silly.”

Nigel can see the exact moment Gabi gets it, _really_ gets it. Embarrassed horror takes over her expression, but it’s Charlie who speaks first.

“Oh my _god_ ,” He says, and bursts into inappropriate giggles that are probably more a result of the concussion and shock than any real amusement. “You’re kinky motherfuckers!”

“Yes,” Adam says bluntly, “Although that’s not really how I would put it.”

Gabi groans and drops her head into her hands. Nigel counts the beats to the rhythm of the laughter Charlie is trying to stifle. It takes Adam a full five seconds to whirl around to face them completely.

“You didn’t _know_?” Adam says, sounding absolutely scandalized.

“Of _course_ I didn’t know!” Gabi snaps back, “Do you think I would have gone through all of this if I thought this was _consensual?_ ”

“You don’t kidnap your friends because they play dirty in the sheets,” Charlie adds, entirely unhelpfully.

Adam stares at all of them, his face tight with irritation. “Are you telling me I could have gone home _hours_ ago?”

“If you’d been upfront with me!” Gabi says, “Why didn’t you just say it was a sex thing?”

It’s not entirely a sex thing, to be fair, but Nigel would also love to know the answer to that question. They all turn expectant faces on Adam.

“I thought you _knew_ ,” Adam all but whines, “why would I let Nigel hurt me if I wasn’t enjoying it?”

Charlie shrugs. “People find it hard to leave abusers for a variety of reasons,” he says, sounding like a slightly drunk textbook, “Gabi was just looking out for you.”

Adam and Gabi stare at each other. Finally, Adam sighs.

“I appreciate you looking out for my well-being,” he tells her, still sounding frustrated and confused, “please don’t do it again.”

“I’ll ask first, next time,” Gabi promises, but the look she shoots Nigel is not entirely trusting. To be fair, Nigel _did_ kick her boyfriend’s scrawny ass, but regardless, Nigel is sure he hasn’t heard the end of this.

Adam breaks the awkward silence. “Can I go home _now?”_

_____

Adam falls asleep in the car. He thought he wouldn’t, too hyped up on the events of the night, but the night was long and the car smells like Nigel. He’s out within ten minutes, head tilted awkwardly against the window. He wakes briefly when Nigel hoists him out of the passenger seat, cradling Adam’s head against his neck and shoulder. He squirms, trying to get down.

“M’awake,” He mumbles, eyes closed against the warmth of Nigel’s body. Nigel hushes him with a kiss to his hair.

“’Course you are,” Nigel murmurs, “But indulge me, won’t you? Let me hold onto you for a bit.”

“’Kay,” Adam mumbles. The steady rocking of Nigel’s arms up the stairs lulls him under again, he’s unconscious before they reach the bedroom.

Adam wakes again hours later, dazed and confused. He tries to stretch, and only ends up arching his back, rolling his hips into empty air. His wrists and ankles, bound securely to the bed, do not move.

Nigel leans over him with a grin. “You were so tired,” he teases, running a single finger from the inside of Adam’s wrist, down his arm and over his shoulder, until Adam squirms. “Just a little bit of soothing and you went right back under, every time.”

Adam imagines it must have taken Nigel ages to bind him, but Nigel looks pleased rather than irritated. They are both naked, Nigel’s body a line of heat along Adam’s side. Adam wriggles a bit, just to feel himself held in place. Nigel hums happily.

“Our trip,” Adam says, disappointed in himself for reminding Nigel, when things are going so perfectly this morning. Afternoon? The light through the windows is much brighter than it normally is when Adam wakes.

“Already handled,” Nigel assures him, “We’ll put it off for another day or two, no harm done. You scared the shit out of me,” He adds, his hand trailing almost too soft along Adam’s chest.

“I’m sorry,” Adam says, “I shouldn’t have-“

Nigel places a hand over his mouth, shutting it with ease. “I’m sorry too,” He says, “You were right to be mad. But you don’t get to wander off on your own like that, do you?”

Adam shakes his head, a motion Nigel allows only briefly before tilting Adam’s face away, trailing kisses up his neck and freeing up his mouth in favor of teasing along his stomach.

“I’m going to keep you here,” Nigel whispers, “all day long. Tied so tightly, right where I can see you.”

“You can’t keep me here all day,” Adam says sensibly, “I’ll get sore.”

“I certainly hope so,” Nigel mumbles against his ear, tugging at the lobe with his sharp teeth.

“Nigel…” Adam whines.

“We’ll take bathroom breaks,” Nigel promises with a laugh, “And then you’ll lay so still for me while I tie you back down, because you want to be good for me, don’t you?” He abandons Adam’s neck, trailing kisses down his neck to his nipples, tracing his tongue over the peaked buds.

“Yes, Nigel,” Adam gasps, arching his back as much as the rope will allow. Nigel’s touch never grows any firmer, just soft brushes of lips and tongue against his sensitive chest. “Nigel, _please_!”

“I’m going to make you a deal,” Nigel says, smirking against Adam’s skin, “I’ll be as rough as you like me to be. I’ll split you open and fuck you until you scream, I’ll bite and pinch and bruise you as much as you like, but you don’t get to come. I’ll torture you all fucking day, just the way I know you need it, but I’m the only one who will see any release.”

Adam’s cock thickens between them, trapped against the soft trail of hair leading down Nigel’s stomach. Adam whimpers, trembling in place.

“Or,” Nigel whispers, “you can come whenever you like. No requests, no permission needed. Whenever you’re ready. But this is all you’ll get.” He sits up, pulling away so Adam can no longer rut up against him. His fingers trail gently over Adam’s inner thigh, a gentle brush against his balls. Adam groans.

It’s not a choice, not really. Adam knows exactly what he wants. He knows Nigel does too; he’s grinning so big and wide that even Adam can tell exactly what he’s thinking.

“Please,” Adam begs, his face red, his body heating up under Nigel’s touch.

“What’s it going to be, darling?”

Nigel always did like to hear Adam ask for things. He likes to watch Adam’s face, the hot flush of arousal that must be so clear to Nigel. Adam tries to turn his face away and gets a hand in his hair for his trouble, gripping tight so there’s nowhere to look but right at Nigel. Adam moans.

“Hurt me,” He begs, “Please, Nigel, I want you to do it, want you to t-torture me, do everything you said you would.”

Nigel kisses him, so fierce that Adam’s head jerks back against the sheets. “Gorgeous,” He whispers against Adam’s mouth, nipping at his lower lip. “Fucking beautiful, crazy little masochist.”

Adam’s thighs are held open by the ropes. It gives Nigel the room he needs to shove three lube-slicked fingers in deep and spread them wide. Adam whines at the burn, writhing against the sheets. He can’t decide if he wants more or less, if the burn is too much or too perfect, and he ends up bucking back and forth beneath Nigel, fucking himself onto Nigel’s fingers in his indecision.

“There you go,” Nigel says, his voice a satisfied purr, “That’s it, baby. I don’t even need to do anything, do I? Just let you go at it?” But even as he says it, he twists his fingers, curling them up hard against Adam’s prostate. Adam gives a shout, shaking his head as Nigel’s fingers rub mercilessly inside him.

“Too much,” he gasps, “Nigel, it’s too much!” His erection twitches against his stomach, leaking steady drips of pre-cum with every nudge of Nigel’s fingers.

“It’s not,” Nigel promises, running a soothing hand down Adam’s side, “I’ll tell you when it’s too much.”

Adam sobs, fucking himself back against Nigel in desperate, greedy rolls of his hips. He knows he can finish just like this, if Nigel lets him. More than once he’s spilled over himself just from the thick pressure of Nigel’s cock, rubbing right where Adam likes it. Adam moans, eyes fluttering closed as he starts to lose himself to the feeling, body jerking on the bed.

“Nigel- Nigel I’m gonna come,” Adam whines, going stiff as he lifts his hips off the bed.

“ _Now_ it’s too much,” Nigel says, withdrawing his fingers entirely.

For a moment, Adam had forgotten. He drops back down to the bed with a miserable wail, body twitching as if he can somehow force Nigel back inside of him. He feels like he’s going to explode, his entire body flying apart at the seams.

It’s been about ten minutes. They still have all day to go.

Adam’s eyes fly open and focus hazily on Nigel, kneeling between Adam’s legs with a vicious grin on his face.

“Finally realized what you asked for, didn’t you?” Nigel teases, “Poor baby, all wound up and no way to end it.”

“Nigel…” Adam says, but there are no other words that come to him. Nigel shushes him anyway.

“You can beg me for more,” Nigel promises, sliding a condom over his cock, “But unless you’re going to safeword out, I don’t want to hear you ask me to stop, understood?”

Adam stares at him, wide-eyed. Nigel leans up to kiss him, a motion that is more smile than actual kiss, both of them too excited to contain it. “This is what you wanted,” Nigel whispers, reaching down to guide himself into Adam’s body, “If you wanted to stop, you shouldn’t have asked me for it. You beg so pretty, baby, how can I say no?”

Adam’s eyes flutter closed. Nigel is always so hot inside him, over him. Sex is a sweaty, slippery mess, and Adam is always surprised by how much he loves it. Nigel bends over him, mouth to Adam’s throat, and bites down hard as he fucks into Adam’s willing body.

Adam tugs hard at the ropes that bind him, burning marks into his wrists and ankles. The urge to move, to push and pull at Nigel until they both tip over the edge, does not fade even though Adam knows the ropes won’t give. He can’t keep still, gasping and squirming as every thrust sends bright heat up his spine.

“I want,” He pants, “I want,” And gives up, because he is not going to get what he wants. Or rather, he is going to get _exactly_ what he wants, all day long, until he’s sobbing with it.

“No, iubiţel,” Nigel murmurs, cupping Adam’s jaw in his hands, “You already made your choice. Do you need me to gag you?”

Adam arches his back and whines. Nigel pins his hips with one hand and his mouth with the other, sealing off his little moans and cries.

“Snap your fingers if you need to tap out,” Nigel murmurs, and grinds down steadily into Adam’s body. Adam’s breath hitches, his eyes roll back. His nose is uncovered, but he still feels as though he can barely breath. He tightens around Nigel, his body trying to grasp him, keep him insides.

Nigel moans. “That’s it, that’s it, baby. Nice and tight for me, feel so good iubiţel, so fucking-“ He licks at Adam’s cheek, following the damp trail of a frustrated tear. Adam is both disgusted and eager, tilting his head to offer the other side, anything Nigel wants. Nigel buries his face in the long line of Adam’s throat and comes, pulsing inside of Adam and making him sob with want.

Adam feels agonizingly empty when Nigel pulls out. He tries to bring his thighs together to relieve the ache, but the ropes keep him open, exposed. His face flushes scarlet when Nigel sits up to look at him, running his thumbs against Adam’s inner thighs, so high up he brushes almost inconsequentially against Adam’s heavy balls with every pass. Adam shivers under Nigel’s intense gaze, focused so strongly on such an intimate place.

“Not red yet,” Nigel muses, “Not sore enough. Could be hours until I get you the color I like you.”

Adam doesn’t know what to make of that, but it’s filthy enough to humiliate him. He turns his face away, hiding it in the pillow even as his cock gives a hopeful little twitch. Just out of sight, Nigel chuckles.

“It’s much too early to be shy, darling, but if you want everything to be a surprise…”

He trails off and ruffles through something out of sight. Adam’s curiosity is almost enough to overcome his embarrassment, but then Nigel lifts his testicles and massages them gently. Adam’s eyes squeeze shut tight, and he yelps at the sudden sensation.

“Should have rolled you over,” Nigel muses, “The view’s obstructed. Ah well, next time.”

And before Adam can respond, something hard and unpleasantly cold is eased into him in one smooth push.

It’s thinner than Nigel, whatever it is, but still a startling amount of pressure nudging right up against his prostate. Adam gasps, opening his eyes to stare at Nigel. Nigel, who looks increasingly more gleeful as time goes on.

“Oh, don’t worry, Darling,” Nigel tells him, “It gets even better.”

Adam had figured out it was a sex toy of some sort, that was obvious enough. He is entirely unprepared for the flick of a switch, the buzz of vibrations deep inside him, rubbing incessantly at his prostate.

It is immediately too much and not enough. Adam likes to be _fucked_ , to be driven into the mattress with every thrust, and this is nothing like that. Nigel holds it completely still, but _where_ he holds it sends aching shivers radiating through Adam’s body.

“I saw this and thought of you. Do you like it?”

Adam doesn’t know if he likes it. He doesn’t know much of anything. His cock is leaking, a near constant stream of fluid left to chill unpleasantly across Adam’s stomach. He gasps and whines and makes every noise he can think of, every appealing sound or curve of his body that might get Nigel to do _something_ , _anything._ “I… I…”

Nigel presses the toy in a little harder. Adam _shrieks_ and thrashes, wants to curl into a ball or kick his feet or _something_ , but he can’t, he can only lie there and take it and he’s going to come, he _wants_ to come, he’s going to-

The toy switches off again. Nigel lets it go, still inside Adam but no longer rubbing deliciously against him. Adam whines unhappily, rolling his hips to try and get the toy back where he wants it.

“Greedy boy,” Nigel murmurs, trailing kisses up Adam’s neck to the curve of his jaw. “Take a deep breath. Relax for me, settle down, and I’ll let you have it again.”

Adam is not entirely sure if he wants it again. The buzz had been intensely strange, overwhelming and constant. He’s not sure he can _take it_ again, such a fierce build up and then the denial. Or maybe…

Adam takes a few deep breaths, forces his chest to stop heaving, his hips to stop rolling. Nigel sucks a livid bruise into Adam’s throat, high up enough that Adam will never hope to hide it. He shifts to make it a twin, just a bit lower.

“There’s a good boy,” Nigel says between nips of his sharp teeth, his hand snaking back down between Adam’s thighs.

The vibrator has _settings_. This had not occurred to Adam, who had never held such a thing in his life, had never seen the need for them. This time, Nigel sets it to a steady pulse, rhythmic hums deep inside Adam that leave him gasping and shaking. Nigel fucks him with the toy, the same way he fucks Adam with his fingers; deep, probing thrusts that seem to touch Adam everywhere at once. Adam feels like he’s spiraling, his body tensing and untensing in time with the toy. He tries to keep himself still, loose-limbed and relaxed. If he can hide the signs of his impending orgasm, maybe he can-

Nigel sits up with a curious look in his eyes, his gaze tracing over every inch of Adam’s body. Adam sucks in a shaky breath of air.

“You naughty little brat,” Nigel says with a fond smile, and flicks the toy off.

“Nooo…” Adam whines, unable to help himself. Nigel removes the vibrator entirely, tilting Adam’s chin up with the tips of his fingers.

“Do you think I don’t know what you look like when you’re about to come, darling?” Nigel whispers, pressing chaste little kisses to the corners of Adam’s mouth. “Do you think I don’t know every inch of you?”

Adam flushes, embarrassed at being caught out. He tries to turn his head away and finds it caught in a firm grasp.

“I think we’ll take a break. Have some breakfast.” Nigel pauses, glancing at the clock on the bedside table, and corrects himself. “Lunch. Late lunch. And then we’ll come back in here and I’ll give you a reminder on how to behave, sound nice?”

Adam hums, pleased. It’s not the answer Nigel is looking for. His free hand toys with one of Adam’s nipples, gentle at first, little tugs that make Adam shiver, and then harder, twisting and pulling until Adam’s back arches right off the bed and he cries out with the pleasure-pain of it.

“What do you say, Adam?” Nigel growls, adjusting his grip so his fingernails pinch into Adam’s tender flesh. “What do you say when I ask you a question?”

“Y-yes, Nigel,” Adam babbles, and almost regrets it when Nigel lets go, petting soothingly over Adam’s chest with a gentle hand.

“Lunch, then,” Nigel says cheerfully, reaching for the ropes that bind Adam’s wrists.

They eat lunch. It is the least satisfying meal of Adam’s entire life, even though Nigel makes him his mac & cheese and expects very little from him in the way of conversation.

Obviously, they can’t have sex _all_ day. It’s a biological impossibility. Nigel is not a teenager anymore, and he’s already had one orgasm. Adam himself is shifting uncomfortably in his seat, his sweatpants too tight across his groin and his body tender in awkward places. Every time he shifts, Nigel grins wider.

But clearly, they’re going to fool around for as much of the day as Nigel can physically manage. The second the dishes are cleared away (and Adam has insisted they both brush their teeth), Nigel grabs a fistful of Adam’s hair and drags him down the hall. Adam scrambles to keep up, bright pinpricks of pain dropping him back down into that complacent state he loves so much. He feels like he’s floating as Nigel shoves him over the foot of the bed, the wooden end board digging into his hips and tilting his ass back towards Nigel. Nigel binds each wrist to one of the posts at the foot of the bed, Adam still and complacent even as his erection hangs heavy between his thighs, almost painful at this point. Nigel leaves Adam’s legs free, his pants around his knees, trapping him in place.

“Still not red enough,” Nigel muses, rubbing his thumb over Adam’s tender hole. Adam squirms. He _feels_ red, raw and well-fucked. Nigel leans down and presses a kiss to Adam’s spine. “You’re very naughty lately, angel. Running off into the city on your own. Wandering down highways in the middle of the night. Trying to take control of what I’ve decided to give you.”

Adam moans and presses his warm face into the blankets. Nigel steps back, and Adam can hear the clink of a belt buckle. Adam stiffens, and then presses up onto his toes, presenting as much of himself as he can for Nigel to strike.

“You liked this,” Nigel murmurs, trailing the folded edge of his belt down over Adam’s shoulder, his back, the curve of his ass. “I thought you wouldn’t, I thought it would finally push you too far. But it didn’t, did it?”

“No, Nigel.” Adam shakes his head and clenches his fists. Spread out as he is, there’s nothing for him to clutch at but the ropes. He’s already hanging on, bracing himself for what’s coming.

“I don’t think there’s anything you wouldn’t like, so long as I’m the one who gave it to you. Do you want it, Adam? Want me to hurt you?”

Adam squirms again, the tip of his cock brushing against the footboard of the bed, barely a tease. “Please,” He pants, “Please, Nigel.”

The crack of the belt is louder than Adam expects it to be, given the relatively mild burn that lights through his backside. Nigel is going easy on him, at least to start, and Adam hums his appreciation into the mattress.

Another snap against his thighs. Adam yelps, shifting on his toes. Again, lower, just above his knees, much lower than Adam is expecting to be hit, and all the worse for it. Adam whines, tugging at his wrists.

“Be still,” Nigel lectures, lightly snapping the belt against Adam’s upper arm. Too light to leave a mark, but Adam flinches and then freezes.

“You asked for this,” Nigel continues, tapping a matching strike against Adam’s other bicep, “Be still for it. Let me take care of you.”

“Yes, Nigel.” Adam sinks. Deep into the blankets, into the pain. Again, and again, his ass, his thighs, sometimes a misplaced strike just to draw another cry from his lips. Pain and fire and heat, and when Nigel drops the belt to grab Adam’s cock instead, Adam can’t help but thrust into the loose grip.

“Feel good, darling?” Nigel presses along Adam’s back, the soft fabric of his flannel pants much too rough against Adam’s skin. Adam writhes beneath him, every inch of Nigel pressing up against another place that’s hot and inflamed. Adam sighs.

“Yes, Nigel,” He slurs, his eyes closed, his body thrumming. Nigel pulls back and leaves him cold, shivering for more touch.

“There we go. _That’s_ the right shade of red. And purple, and black.” Nigel palms Adam’s ass, digging his thumb into a tender spot until Adam yelps. Nigel kisses the spot in apology, trailing kisses over each arm as well, as he unbinds them. He guides Adam onto the bed, then onto his back. Adam winces as his bruises press into the sheets, hands left by his head where Nigel presses them.

“Bored yet, baby?” Nigel asks

“Never.” Adam offers him a hazy grin. He’s still achingly hard, but it’s become far less important than the pain, than Nigel’s answering smile.

“Good. But let’s wrap things up anyway. We still have packing to do.” Before Adam can respond, Nigel hauls him up by the hips, forcing his back into a painful arch. “Hands down,” He warns when Adam tries to brace himself. Adam is obedient, always obedient, but his feet scrabble for purchase when Nigel swallows him down.

Nigel holds him with a fierce grip on his bruises, licking and sucking his way down to the base of Adam’s cock. Adam loses his mind, whining eagerly with every heavy swallow.

No one has ever touched him the way Nigel does, his hands so firm and rough, his nails leaving tiny little indentations across red and burning skin. Adam’s body tenses faster than he expects, drawn to the edge from spending far too much time hovering near it. His back and thighs ache from the forced position, his fingers tangling in his own hair.

“Nigel,” he begs, “Nigel please, I can’t!”

Nigel’s eyes lock on his, and Adam cannot bear it. His own eyes slide shut, his fingers tugging at his hair in a hopeless mimicry of what Nigel does to him.

“Please please please,” He babbles. Nigel slides an arm under his ass to keep him arched, freeing up another hand to seal Adam’s mouth shut. Adam shrieks into Nigel’s palm, toes curling as Nigel swallows, and swallows, and-

Everything is too much, too hot, too vibrant. Adam comes with a hoarse scream, still begging for mercy behind Nigel’s hand. His throat aches as much as the rest of him when Nigel finally lowers him back to the bed, turning Adam onto his side to spoon up behind him. Nigel rubs gently at his stomach while Adam sobs into the pillow, a mix of catharsis and apology.

“I’m sorry,” Adam gasps, “I’m so sorry.”

Nigel hushes him with soft little kisses, nuzzling their noses together. “You did exactly what I wanted you to do,” He whispers, “You always do.”

And that settles Adam, curls warm and bright into that ache in his chest. He quiets, letting Nigel wrap him up. Here, curled up with Nigel, Adam has everything he needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings/kinks: Violence, guns (unfired), references to abusive relationships, orgasm delay/denial, sex toys, belt spanking
> 
> I've decided not to bother having an excuse. Although I've finally quit the job that was draining the life out of me, so hopefully that will help my motivation. 
> 
> This is it. It's done. I have told the entire story I meant to tell (except the epilogue, which should be up later this week, since I don't intend it to be very long. Hopefully). Wow. What a ride. It's so baffling to me that it's over I can't believe how long it's been and how far they've come since I wrote a little one-shot for EatTheRare. 
> 
> We get a bit of a glimpse of the fact that Nigel really isn't a good guy, here. I try to keep him as kind of a jerkass with a soft spot for Adam. Sometimes he's a bit softer (I just couldn't get him to ACTUALLY threaten Charlie), sometimes he remembers he's a bad person. So, that being said... Had Adam refused to come home, this fic would have played out a lot more like the movie, with Nigel showing up and flat out _deciding_ Adam was coming with him. Nigel is committed for the long haul. They're both very lucky Adam doesn't _want_ to leave, because he would not be allowed to. But Adam doesn't want that, so they get to be happy together!
> 
> Poor Adam is very confused. He definitely thinks Gabi and Charlie KNOW, and they very much don't. He doesn't try to argue with them because he doesn't see the point, since they know and are still abducting him. 
> 
> PSA btw, don't abduct your friends, ESPECIALLY if you think they are in an abusive relationship. Such situations need to be handled VERY carefully.
> 
> Charlie. God, I love Charlie. It was important to me that Charlie threw the first punch, because there's no way Gabi would have been able to be understanding if Nigel came in and destroyed Charlie like he did in the film. And while Charlie and Gabi are both technically the 'antagonists' of this story, I have to have a moment of respect for Charlie. Here is a man who Gabi has claimed is a gang leader and a killer (and yes, she still believes that and still doesn't trust him, but there was no keeping Adam at that point), and Charlie not only puts himself between this man and Adam, he actively curses him out and attempts to beat the crap out of him. I do not think a gun would have stopped him if Nigel had pulled it. He's a good guy. 
> 
> Speaking of guns... Ishxallxgood and I both really wanted a chance for Adam to use his gun, for MONTHS now, but by the time we got to that point in the fic, Adam just... wasn't worried. He fully believed Nigel would stop just because Adam said so, and he was RIGHT. But we still wanted our gun moment so now it's very inappropriate flirting. Should they be flirting right then? Nope but I don't care. It's my own personal indulgence. 
> 
> they were supposed to have makeup sex and instead they fucked for hours I could not stop them.
> 
> This is the end of How They Got Together, but Rules will continue! First, in the epilogue. Then, in the fall, I have a comedy sequel and an angsty sequel planned. Cast your votes for which you would prefer!
> 
>  
> 
> "Strats they didn't talk about the file!" Yeah. Because neither of them actually _care_. They said what they needed to say, with Nigel validating Adam's worries and Adam acknowledging that he'd rather be with Nigel than anywhere else. It DOES come up with them off screen, later, but at the time they had a lot going on to think about instead. Suffice it to say, Adam is very understanding of the idea that Nigel screens ALL his potential lovers/friends/employees, but Nigel still burns the file.


	12. Epilogue

“Hello?”

Beth is awake, of course, or she wouldn’t be answering her Skype notifications. But the fact remains that it is _very_ late, almost two AM. She shouldn’t be awake at all, she has an alarm going off in four and a half hours, but lately Beth has been the queen of bad decisions.

And maybe some good ones. There’s a man she met at the planetarium the other day, a place she goes whenever she thinks of Adam and feels happy instead of guilty. He’s a nice man. He wants to meet for coffee. Beth thinks he might even think she’s pretty.

But. Bad decision time: 2AM, wide awake, staring at Facebook memories and trying not to reach for a bottle. Her mother thinks she’s an alcoholic. She’ll prove her wrong, she’ll stare at old pictures of dad until her eyes fall out and she won’t have a single sip.

And she’ll answer the Skype call.

Adam comes in glitchy and grainy, a far cry from his usual flawless internet. She can see a frown stretching across his face as he taps at his keys.

“I’m very sorry, Beth, the hotel wi-fi isn’t very good.”

“Hotel?” Beth frowns. Sure enough, the blurry wallpaper looks completely different from the unpainted white walls of Adam’s apartment. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine,” Adam assures her, “It’s just that Nigel tells me I won’t have much time to call you later, so I should take care of it now. I thought I would have to type a message, but Skype told me you were online.”

“Right, right.” Beth sighs and rubs at her sore eyes. “What did you need to tell me?”

“Nigel and I are in a consensual 24/7 BDSM relationship,” Adam says, reading the words off of his phone screen. “Nigel hits me because I find sexual gratification from it. He does not and would not do anything to me that I did not consent to,” Adam continues, though Beth’s brain short-circuited somewhere around ‘sexual gratification.’ “We have a safeword. I am not being abused.”

“A-Adam,” Beth chokes, “Why are you telling me this?” Talk about a massive over-share.

“Gabi informed me that you might be concerned about some things that you saw when you visited us. It had not occurred to me that you would think Nigel was abusing me, and I apologize for worrying you. Gabi told me I should make sure you knew that I was alright, since she shared your concerns. Nigel helped me write out a speech to make sure there were no misunderstandings.”

Here, Adam waves his phone. Beth is going to hit Nigel herself, if she ever meets him again.

“That’s…. That was very helpful of him, Adam,” Beth croaks, “But there is such a thing as ‘too much information.’”

Adam frowns. “Nigel worried that if I didn’t explain the bruises, you might continue to suspect them.”

“Of course he did,” Beth mutters. More likely, he wanted to expressly declare his claim.

But there’s a bit of relief, under all the embarrassment. Adam is happy. He’s whole, and safe, and not being hurt.

“Also, I’m getting married today,” Adam adds.

Beth nearly falls out of her seat. “You’re _what?”_

“Getting married today,” Adam repeats, “Nigel and I decided to take a trip together. We’ve gone to France to get married, and we might visit Spain if we don’t miss home too much. I’m sorry we didn’t invite you; we didn’t think the stress of wedding planning would be very enjoyable. It will just be the two of us in a courthouse. But I wanted to make sure I told you as soon as possible, because you are one of my best friends.”

Beth blinks at the screen. She blinks again. She opens her mouth to complain, to protest that Adam should have said something, should at the very least have _warned_ her so she could have… could have…

Beth shuts her mouth. It’s not her place to say. Adam’s getting married today! He should be as happy and as stress-free as he can.

“I’m really happy for you, Adam,” Beth whispers, surprising herself with her sincerity. Adam blushes, pixelated but visibly pleased.

“I love him,” He says, as much a dagger in Beth’s chest as it is a balm over her concerns.

“I’m glad,” She says, “But… Adam?”

“Yes?”

“ _Please_ do Harlan a favor and wait a few hours to call him.”

Adam smiles sheepishly, and Beth can’t help but laugh. Off-screen, a gruff voice mutters something, and Adam immediately breaks out into the most honest grin Beth has ever seen from him.

“I have to go,” He tells her, “We have a brunch reservation. Nigel promises me the restaurant is very quiet.”

“Have fun,” Beth murmurs.

Beth is not going to drink. She’s going to go crash, and in the morning, she’ll meet Dante for coffee, and resist the urge to wake Adam up when _he’s_ supposed to be sleeping.

She’s not going to cry, either, though her eyes are watering. She’s happy for Adam. It aches a bit, knowing he’s truly moved on, but the happiness patches over that. Adam really is her best friend.

_____

Harlan’s phone is blinking at him when he finally makes his way back into his apartment. He never checks messages while driving anymore, not after having to listen to Adam go on and on about the dangers.

Harlan can’t help a little smile at that, settling onto the sofa with a beer, ready to relax after a long day at work. God, but he misses that kid, rambles and all. Twice a week skype calls, at first, and now just weekly, now that Adam’s settled into his new life. Harlan misses inappropriate lunch talk, space stations and planets instead of sports and pin-ups.

It’s Adam who’s messaged him, the tiny Skype alert declaring two missed calls and a message. Harlan checks the message and chokes on his beer.

It’s a selfie, taken carefully by a dark-eyed man with blond hair and a smug grin. He’s got one arm wrapped around Adam’s shoulders, clutching the boy tight to his side and pressing their cheeks together. Harlan can only see from the shoulders up, but they appear to be wearing matching suits. Adam’s tie has already been loosened, still twined through the blond man’s fingers where he’d tugged it free of Adam’s collar. And Adam…

Adam is beaming, eyes wide and bright, gaze locked on the camera. He’s grinning so wide that it’s scrunched his face up a bit, and a pink flush has settled over his cheeks.

“Nigel and I got married today,” the message below the image says. It’s the first Harlan has heard of it. First time he’s seen Nigel, too, since Adam never had gotten around to introducing them.

Harlan shakes his head with a laugh, and sighs. He wipes a few spilled drops of beer away from his amused grin.

“Kid’s gonna make me old before my time,” he mutters, firing back a message.

_You better call me this week, kiddo. We have a lot to talk about._

Harlan pauses, thinking about it.

_Congratulations._

_____

Gabi is frowning down at her phone when Charlie comes in. He’s working now, living in Bucharest on a Visa he never would have gotten without her help. He loves her, how smart she is, how beautiful. He loves that little crease she gets across the bridge of her nose when she’s thinking very, _very_ hard.

“Uh-oh,” Charlie says, crossing the room to press a kiss to the top of her head, “What’s with the face?”

“Nothing,” Gabi says, instinctively defensive, “This is just my face.”

“That’s your _grumpy_ face,” Charlie corrects, “What happened?”

Gabi hesitates, then holds her phone out. Charlie takes a look at the picture and can’t help but laugh.

“Oh wow, did you know they were getting married on this trip?”

“No,” Gabi says sullenly, “Adam only told me where they were going. Perhaps he did not realize I would want to know.”

_Or perhaps_ , Charlie thinks, a bit embarrassed of himself for being so pessimistic, _Nigel didn’t want to give her the chance to talk him out of it_. He doesn’t voice that thought allowed, handing the phone back in silence. Gabi will talk, if he’s patient enough.

“I am very happy for them,” Gabi adds, in the most stiff and irritated voice Charlie has ever heard. Committed as he is to his welcoming silence, Charlie still can’t hold back the snicker.

“What? I am!” Gabi protests, swatting at Charlie with a throw pillow. “I am sure they will be very happy together and have lots of kinky sex that I will hear about when they get back.”

Another snicker, and then Charlie outright loses it. Gabi glares at him for a full minute, but laughter is contagious. Sure enough, the ridiculousness of what Gabi has said catches up for her, and she begins to giggle, covering her mouth with her hands.

“He’s a bit of an oversharer, isn’t he, now that you know?”

“I know _far_ too much now,” Gabi said, “I think he’s afraid if he doesn’t tell me absolutely everything, I’ll start to worry.”

Charlie hesitates. “Is he wrong?” He finally asks.

Gabi bites her lip and stares down at the floor. “No,” She finally admits. “I still don’t trust Nigel. I know too much about him. And Adam does not want to hear any of it. Always changing the subject.”

“Do you think he already knows?” Charlie suggests gently. Gabi gives him a wounded look, shaking her head.

“No, he- I-“ She trails off, and then shakes her head again, firmly. She doesn’t speak, though, staring at her phone once more.

“We’ll keep an eye on them,” Charlie promises, “If Adam needs us, we’ll be there.”

She smiles at him, that beautiful too-bright Gabi smile. God, Charlie loves her. Maybe _he_ should get surprise married, too.

“Thank you, Charlie.

_____

Adam settles in on the bed, his stomach twisting with nerves. Nigel had gone to close the balcony doors. The fresh air and city view had been beautiful in the early morning, but neither of them relishes the idea of performing for an audience.

They’d married around noon, in an empty court room with only a judge and a witness pulled from the front desk. Nigel had still insisted on the suits. “Want my baby to look pretty for pictures,” He’d said. The woman from the desk had been very obliging, taking a few quick shots to add to the selfie Nigel had snapped.

It had been quick, just a few minutes of the judge speaking words Adam barely heard. Nigel had kissed him sweetly, a soft press of their lips, and then hauled him closer for a second, much filthier kiss. Both Adam and the judge had been a little red by the end of it.

They’d gone to an early dinner, after, their own private room in the restaurant. Someone apparently owed Nigel a favor, and that had earned them a series of plates for Adam to pick at (Steak, yes. Lobster, no.), and enough glasses of champagne for Adam to feel warm and tingly when they finally left.

And now they were here, with Adam scooting back against the headboard and Nigel prowling across the room with an eager grin. He stops by the bed to kiss Adam, soft and sweet, before turning to dig through their suitcases.

Adam counts his heartbeats and tries to breath steadily. Waiting.

Nigel’s eagerness gives way through irritation as he digs through their bags. When he finally dumps one out onto the floor, contents sprawling everywhere, Adam takes pity on him. Rolling onto his stomach, he peers over the edge of the bed.

“What are you looking for?”

Nigel looks up at him with a frown and a faint flush across his cheeks. Embarrassed, definitely, and Adam suspects a little bit of guilt as well. “I think I forgot to pack the condoms, darling.”

Adam hums thoughtfully, chewing on his lower lip. He’s not a very good actor, though, and he can’t leave Nigel hanging forever. “I took those out when you weren’t looking.”

Nigel stares at him for a long moment. He looks very good like that, in the faint orange light from the setting sun, his tie long gone and his shirt half-unbuttoned from the walk back to the hotel. He looks even better when a small smile starts to tug at the corner of his lips.

“And why would you do something like that, darling?” He stands, towering over Adam where he lays on the bed. Adam squirms a little under his gaze, grinning up at him. He’s still nervous. His hands tremble slightly where he fidgets with the bedspread.

“I just thought, maybe, we didn’t need them anymore?” It comes out more of a question than the blatant flirting Adam had been intending. He ducks his head, staring down at the soft bedspread. Nigel tsks and tangles his fingers in Adam’s hair, tilting Adam’s head back.

“You’re never embarrassed about asking for what you want, iubiţel, don’t start now.”

“I… I’ve been avoiding this,” Adam points out, “I wouldn’t let you. I made a really big deal out of it, and now…”

“And now you still don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” Nigel tells him, kneeling down to look him in the eyes. He cups Adam’s chin in one hand, keeping his head still, his eyes on Nigel’s face.

“If you wanted it…” Adam trails off, face flushed. Nigel is grinning at him, so thrilled that it makes Adam’s heart race faster.

“If you want me to force you, Adam, I’m happy to, you know that. But not this. This has to be your choice.”

Adam hums in acknowledgement, tipping his head back towards Nigel’s gentle grip on his hair. Nigel’s thumb traces over his chin, down to trail lightly over his Adam’s apple.

“I’ve already made my choice,” Adam whispers, “Are you going to come to bed?”

Nigel leans down to kiss him, rolling Adam onto his back. He crawls onto the bed with him, guiding him to shift and lay amongst the pillows.

“You keep surprising me,” Nigel murmurs between kisses, stripping Adam out of his things, bit by bit. From his pocket, he pulls Adam’s tie, binding his wrists in front of him. It’s a paltry little thing, no real restriction. Adam is free to clutch at Nigel if he wants, or to throw his arms over Nigel’s shoulders. He can press up into Nigel, and pull Nigel down to meet him, which he does, throwing a leg over Nigel’s hips.

“Too many clothes,” Adam protests, his fingers fumbling awkwardly with Nigel’s remaining buttons. Nigel chuckles and finishes the job for him, shifting out of the remnants of his suit.

“Just you and me,” He whispers into Adam’s ear, pressing him back down into the mattress. “Forever, darling.”

“’Til death do us part,” Adam says, tilting his head back with a gasp as Nigel bites at his neck.

“Even after that, Adam,” Nigel promises, slotting himself between Adam’s thighs. For Adam, life ends at death, but if he could hold onto Nigel, if they could be something, some bit of matter or dust in the wind, together, he would take that.

They rock together for a few moments, Nigel bearing Adam down with gentle rolls of his hips. Adam’s hands are trapped between them, palms pressed against Nigel’s chest as they move.

“Nigel,” Adam says. Demands, really, pressing his feet flat to the bed so he can arch his back and push up harder against the body on top of his. Nigel chuckles into his shoulder.

“Alright, greedy little thing, I have you.”

A click of a cap, the soft wet noise of Nigel’s hand, and then Nigel presses against him, slick and solid. Adam lets out a slow breath, forcing himself to relax as Nigel works his way in, bit by bit, inch by inch. It gets a little easier every time, as Adam learns what it feels like, how well they fit together. But it’s never been like this, Nigel bare inside him, skin to skin. Nigel gives him time to adjust, pulling out and then easing back in just as slowly, gradual little motions that go a little deeper each time. Maybe it’s just his imagination, but Adam feels closer to Nigel than he ever has, like he can feel Nigel’s heartbeat inside of him.

Nigel settles with a low hiss through his teeth. Adam’s eyes flutter closed as he tries to get his bearings.

“Alright, darling?” Nigel asks.

“It’s a lot,” Adam admits. Physically, but mentally too. His brain ticks forward faster and faster, a thousand things to worry about, messes to clean up, fears and nervousness and anxiety…

But no. Because pressed up against him, against his chest, between his thighs, is Nigel. And Nigel will always be safe.

“Move,” Adam whispers, blinking up at him. “I want you to move.”

Nigel works one arm between Adam’s back and the bed, holding him close. The other hand finds Adam’s, tangling their fingers together and then pinning Adam’s bound hands above his head.

Nigel moves, slow, steady. Filling Adam with every thrust, pushing him further and further towards the edge. Adam’s cock lies trapped between their bellies, damp and sensitive as Nigel fucks him.

And Nigel looks at him, like Nigel always looks at him. Like there has never been anything or anyone like Adam.

“Come on,” Adam whispers, “Give me everything.”

Nigel kisses him again, nips slowly at his lower lip as they move together. “Anything you want,” He promises. He always promises.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... That's it! The story is over, and honestly, I cannot believe it. It is such a WEIRD feeling when you finish something, it really is. 
> 
> Some thoughts on the epilogue:
> 
> First, YES HI, let me tell you about my personal 'Beth is a borderline alcoholic with no one there to catch her' headcanon. Because. Yeah. 
> 
> Second, Nigel's little speech he wrote for Adam was like, 10% so Beth would know Adam wasn't being abused, and 90% to make Beth jealous. It worked, because Beth is still in love with Adam. But she's moving on. Slowly.
> 
> Yes, of course, Adam ran off and got married and told no one. And yeah, Nigel manipulated that a bit. Adam really didn't want a huge wedding or any guests, which Harlan and Beth at LEAST would have insisted on being there. But Nigel also, as Charlie suspects, did not want to give anyone a chance to talk Adam out of it. Nigel does not believe in divorce. 
> 
> Gabi and Charlie cannot possibly just 'like' Nigel now, even finding out that his relationship with Adam is consensual. They DO know that he has ties to drug dealers and possibly murdered some dudes, after all. And yes, Adam is fully aware of all of this, and purposefully avoiding Gabi's questions about it. 
> 
> Nigel and Adam are deliriously happy! And yeah, Adam was a little grossed out about the lack of a condom when everything was over... but you bet your ass Nigel's gonna throw the rest of them out when they get home. Adam will adjust. 
> 
> This was mentioned in the last chapter but a reminder here: There are TWO sequels planned for Rules, coming in the fall. One is straight up comedy, and one is angst with a happy ending. Cast your votes on which you'd like to see first!
> 
> Thank you for taking this journey with me. I kind of hate that it's over. There will probably be oneshots set in this verse, but sequels first!
> 
> Update: Chapter 9 now contains (VERY NSFW) art! Y'all can thank [Nephila](http://twitter.com/callmenephila) for that beauty!


End file.
